1: The ties that bind
by shunkaha
Summary: Chapter SIX is here. Plus: Random information about TTTB nobody really needs to pass the time until chapter seven is here. Have fun!
1. Chapter 1

The ties that bind 

Disclaimer: The characters of "The Magnificent Seven" and "Without a Trace" are not mine , they belong to whoever created them. The ATF - universe is all MOG's and there are not enough words in the world to thank her for this amazing universe she created for us. This is a work of complete fiction and I am not making money with this whatsoever (man, THAT would be the job of my dreams!). Quote in the middle of the chapter is from the song "children of the night" by Richard Marx. So now just kick back and relax and I hope you will enjoy this story!

Author's comment: The idea for this story has been running around in my head ever since WAT first aired in Germany, but I never found the curage to write it down. And one more thing: English is not my native tongue, so please don't be mad if there are typos in this. I know this is going kind of slow - but I will get to where I want to take this, I promise! And: I am sorry I had to delete this a few times - but my server went crazy and screwed everything up. Since this is my first upload here, I am still fighting witht he formatting. Sorry for that.

_"The ties that bind me to my brothers_

_are not bound around my wrists_

_but rather fastened to my heart."_

"No, no problems, why? She was always on time for work, did what I told her to do, she was kind of quiet, you know…" Martin Fitzgerald nodded several times, trying to resist the urge to sigh. How often had he heard the exact same words today? He had lost count. Marisol Ferrier was obviously the stereotype of a "normal" person, blending into the crowd, trying not to gather any attention. Now, that didn't make this case any easier. She'd driven her son to school exactely on time, left for work but never arrived. He looked past the middleadged female job assistant, trying to catch a glimpse of the exit of the crowded mall. With a frown he realised what he was doing. Get a grip, he chastited himlself mentally. What is wrong with you today? He focused his attention back on the woman but could not surpress a cold feeling. He had never felt good in small, cramped or crowded places. But through the years he'd learned to deal with that. Why was it bothering him now?  
"But there was something, now that you ask…" Pay attention. Listen to her. It's your job.  
-Really? Ya sure about that-  
He physically flinched. Where the hell had that come from? This was SO not the right moment for a trip down memory lane! After dozens of interviews with Ferrier's coworkers someone was finally coming up with a clue. So he HAD to pay attention! He shook his head, trying to sort out his wondering thoughts. What was going on today?

Martin closed the door of his appartment behind him and leaned against it, taking a deep breath. Finally, this horrible day was over. They'd found out that the father of Marisol's son Gabriel –whom she had left several years ago – had somehow found her and threatened to kidnap Gabriel if she didn't give him money. They'd found her locked in the bathroom of a shabby motel room, sporting a split lip and a swollen eye. Her husband nowhere in sight. But that wasn't their concern any more, the NYPD had taken over from there. He shrugged out of his coat and finally losened his tie. Got, how he hated the ties. While putting it back into the closet in his bedroom, his eyes wandered through his apartement. What was wrong with him today?  
Where did this restlessness come from? He hadn't felt like that in… years.  
Why now?  
But he couldn't stop the memories from surfacing. And for a moment, the large, expensive apartement changed, the rooms became smaller, darker. The windows where dirty, the walls grey and the air was heavy from cigarette smoke and the scent of mexican food. He could hear sirens in the distance, the echoes of children laughing in the narrow streets below and the angry voices of the argueing couple in the apartement next to his. Something crashed to the floor, a plate maybe. Then there was the faint tinkering of Benji's guitar by the front door. And the silent voice of old Miss Mariella singing some strange song while cooking the mexican food he could so clearly smell and almost taste. Two kids ran down the stairs at top speed, laughing out loud. He smiled. Luca and Isabel. He wondered what Miss Mariella's two youngest grandchildren where up too now…

The shrill ringing of his phone brought him back to the here and now. Disoriented for a moment he glanced around in his apartment, finally seeing his cordless phone lying on his nightstand. He took a deep breath, stadied himself and answered it. "Fitzgerald?" He was met with silence. He frowned. He could hear breathing, but whoever was on the line didn't speak. "Hello? Who is this? Can you hear me?" Again the caller didn't say anything. Martin started to worry. This was not a prank call, something was defenitely wrong here. He could even feel the tension through the phone. "Are… are you alright?" he asked, his voice hoarse. "Hello? Do you need help?" Again he listened to the hitching breath on the other end of the line, then there was a click when the line was disconnected. Martin lowered the phone and stared at it for a few moments. He had a strange feeling in his gut. Something was in the air. And he didn't like that feeling at all.

---------------------

"Uhm, Boss? Tell me again what we are doing here?" Chris Larabee sighed in exasparation. "Buck, I TOLD you not to use the radio. Keep it down!" "But Chris, he's right." JD's voice chimed in. "This is boring. They don't even need us." Another groan from their leader. "Okay, I'll tell you again, we are the BACKUP! Team 9 asked for our help, so here we are, just in case anything goes wrong. And now I don't want to hear another WORD! This is WORK, boys. So stuff it"  
He pinched the brigde of his nose, taking a deep breath. He too, was not happy with the situation. Hidden behind parking cars or in black vans near the back door of the Talon at the middle of the night – that was not his favorite place to be. Expecially not if they weren't really needed. But Joseph Simms had talked about a "bad feeling in his gut" the other day, referring to the Derringer – case and the upcoming bust. So he had asked Team 7 for help. Ha! Help. Chris had to supress a snort. Simms didn't want help. Didn't ask for help. He and his men shared the oppinion that Team 9 were the ATF's finest, always rivaling with Team 7 – although there was no need to do so. Chris and the others weren't even interested in Team 9, not even payin attention to them unless it involved a case they were assigned to. And that drove Simms nuts. If anything, Simms wanted attention. Needed it badly. So if there was no capable audience in sight, he managed to organize one. So partly, Chris could understand the constant ranting of his teammembers he heard over his headset. But still, this was work. Before agreeing to this, Chris had read through the casefile, discussing it with Josiah. Milo Derringer was not really a big fish, but the man had the unnerving talent to vanish completely and reappear out of the blue, selling the newest types of weapons. Josiah had mentioned that Derringer might not be the smartest man on earth, but that there was something unpredictable about him. "Backup my ass," Buck growled through the radio. "This is just Simms showing off. He thinks he is oh so great and wants us to watch." "I am afraid Mr. Wilmington is right, Mr. Larabee, " Ezra's melodic southern accent added. "There is no need for backup here. According to Mr. Simms, Milo Derringer has no more than 6 men to protect him during the deal and team 9 alone consists of 8 members. So you see, Mr. Simms and his men should be more than capable…" "And what is this about anyway," Nathan Jackson rumbled. "The Talon. It's a dance club for god's sake! Selling weapons at the back door under a pink neon sign. How clichee is that"  
"Amen to that, my friend." Josiah. "And how long are we supposed to crawl around underneath cars and enjoy the show!" Buck. "Simms doesn't need us. Never did." "Oh come on Buck. Just pretend the cars were girls," JD snickered. "Now, this would be different," Buck shot back without missing a beat. "First, I wouldn't take a girl to a place like this. The Talon stinks." "It's not the Carlton, I assure you," Ezra agreed in disgust. "Just looking at this – this THING above the door hurts my eyes. This place is filthy, dirty and most likely provides a vast amount of"  
"Told ya, it stinks!" Buck interrupted him. "Boys," Chris chimed in again. "Keep it down. That's an order. Deal's running." "Oh and by the way, Buck, did I tell you that"  
"JD!'" Chris barked into his headset, his temper flaring. "You have your orders to monitor those bank accounts and radio Simms and his boys as soon as the money is transferred. So I WANT your eyes glued to that computer screen until you are told otherwise!" The complaining voice of Team 7's computer expert who was sitting in the back of the black van died immidiately. As did all the other voices of his team members. After a minute of silence, a clicking sound in his ear told Chris that one of his team members had opened a private channel. "That really wasn't necessary, ya know?" the soft Texas drawl of Vin Tanner spoke up. Team 7's sharpshooter had taken his position on top of the building across the street, his eyes never leaving the Talon's back door and the parking cars. "They are right. Everything's calm here. Simms just wants an audience to applaude him when the deal's over." Chris sighed. He hated to admit this, but Vin was right. Taking out his own unease and impatience on JD had not been necessary. And as usual, all it took to calm Chris down was the fact that Vin was there somwhere, watching his back. He took a deep, calming breath and looked over his shoulder, searching the buildings nearby. Finally, he made out a small shadow, barely able to see the shape of his best friend with his bare eyes. And like so many times before, he was thankful for having Vin on his team. "How you doing up there?" he asked his friend.  
"Freezing my ass off," Vin answered with a snort. "What ya think"  
"You know, you don't really need to be up there. Simms has his own sharpshooter in position." Another snort. "Yeah, right, I can see him. Looks like Simms sent Carsson up here. Sits on top of that stupid hardware store to your right. Won't hit a thing from that angle. I swear to god, that kid is as blind as a fucking mole." Chris had to suppress a laugh. If anything, Vin was a pro. He took his position as sharpshooter of the team very seriously – and his abilities with firearms were legendary within the ATF. "Looks like this is going to be over soon," Chris stated, watching as Milo Derringer showed off the weapons he planned to sell tonight. The two ATF agents, who were playing the parts of the potentional buyers, nodded at each other, and one of them lifted a metal case.  
"Come on, come on," Buck rumbled over the radio. "Take the damned money, I want to go HOME!" "Easy, Bucklin," Vin answered. "Hey Boss," he than added. "How bout us havin some fun here? With Simms showing off and all that?" "Ooooohhh, I really like the way you say that, Junior," Buck interjected and his smile was almost audible over the radio. "Oh please," Chris sighed," not today. Simms hates our guts as it is. No need to fuel this, okay"  
"I didn't say nothing about no fuel," Vin interrupted him, "I just said that we could have serious fun here. This whole thing is as good as over, we all know that. Simms never needed us, he wanted us to watch his little show. Why not make him watch ours?" "Maybe they are right, Chris," another voice spoke up over the radio. "JOSIAH!" Chris almost shouted in surprise. "You too! What the hell is going on here? Did you plan on doing this"  
"Well, let me put it like this," Ezra chimed up, "we all have a serious dislike for Joseph Simms. He underastimates us, belittles us and even has the nerve to drag us out here to be the audience for his little show. I say he deserves to find out what it means to deal with Team 7. You may correct me if I am wrong." "Sounds great to me," JD snickered. "I got this cute little scrambler in here. I can program it to disturb the frequency of Simms team's radios and send country music instead. Anyone up to the challenge?" For a moment, Chris' ears echoed with the laughter of his teammates, then Buck spoke up again, gathering his breath.  
"Hey, you guys remember Nates birthday party last month? I still have one of them stinking grenades over here.." Chris had to cover his ear with his hand when several shouting voices echoed over the radio. Of corse they all remembered those. "Not bad," Nathan laughed, "Rain still hates your guts for those. But watch out for the wind. I get one whiff of that smell and I swear I'll puke all over the street. Ezra"  
"Oh, I am not sure yet," the Southener answered. "Since we will have to wait for Mr. Simm's men to disarm Mr. Derringer and secure the situation before we strike, I think I will put the time to a use by calling this fine woman at the laundry shop in the Carnby Lane. She once told me that many members of team 9 bring their uniforms there and"  
"Oh, I can already see where this goes," Josiah barked with laughter. "You truly are sneaky, Brother Standish." Buck also laughed. "Not bad. Ez. Not bad. What about you, Junior"  
This was followed by a snicker, before Vin finally spoke up, his voice all innocene. "Me? Nothin special. I can see Simms from up here and there is somethin shiny where his hips should be. I can be wrong since I am that far away, but shouldn't that be his belt buckle?" After a moment of silence, every single team member roared up with laughter, even Chris. "Okay boys," he finally gave in. " Once Simms and his idiots have taken Derringer out, I say the stage is ours. Showtime!"

Chris Larabee slowly realised that he was lying in his bed. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the here and now. The voices were still so close, whispering in the air like the wind. Sitting up in his bed, Chris found out that it was indeed the wind he was hearing. One of the huge windows was still open and the curtain was softly moving in the warm breeze. Chris rubbed his hands over his face and tried to take a deep breath – but the pain in his chest again caught the breath in his lungs, like so many times before. He swallowed hard, trying to ban those thoughts from his mind. He snorted. Like that had ever worked before. He rose from his bed and walked over to the open window, listening to the hollow sounds his bare feet were causing on the wooden floor. It took him a while to realise that he had been staring out of the window for minutes. He shook his head and shuddered. Again. This kind of thing seemed to happen a bit too often for his liking. He cursed under his breath and walked back to his bed, catching a glimpse of the alarm clock by his bedside. 2:57. Great. That was just great. He sat down on the bed again and felt for the wooden amulet next to the alarmclock. He cradeled it between his hands. A simple leather neclace and a wooden charm. He couldn't really tell what it was meant to be. But he kept it, of corse he did. Because it had been the only thing left in that small, cheap apartment in Purgatorio. Another twang of pain in his chest caused him to hold his breath. So he waited, riding it out. His fist closed around the amulet and felt his eyes starting to sting.  
"Where are you, cowboy?" he whispered, surprised and shocked by the raspy and hollow sound of his voice. "What the hell happened to you…?"

--------------------------

Martin had been writing on the report of the Ferrier case for more than an hour now and it still wasn't finished. His thoughts were still running around in his head, pulling him back to a place and a time he didn't want to see or feel right now. Or ever again. He felt his gut clench at that thought. So even his own body thought he was a shitty liar. Oh the joy. He felt the glare in his back immediately but didn't react on it. He knew it was Danny. How he knew - he couldn't say. He had always known when someone had spied on him. Some time ago, he'd relied on that instinct. Yeah, he tought bitterly. Old habits die hard. And without realising what he was doing, he lifted his head and glanced over his shoulder.  
"What ya want?" He bit his lip the moment the words left his mouth. Too late. Cursing himself mentally, he prayed that Danny would let it slide or that he had overheard. Martin heard footsteps approaching. No such luck. "Well, let's see," Danny started, leaning over Martin's desk now. "You have been writing on that report for over an hour now and as far as I can see that screen is still almost blank. Then there's the fact that it's past eleven and there's no cheeseburger anywhere on your desk. And let's not forget the way you zooned out on me this morning when I complained about your coffie. What's wrong with you, Fitz?" Martin almost smiled. Of corse Danny was worried. They were co-workers, partners to a certain extend. And although Martin was not really a very outgoing person, Danny seemed to know him surprisingly well. Out of all the other members of the team, Danny was the closest to what Martin would call a friend. He almost snorted, imagining what his father would have to say to that. Friends. There was no need for something like friends if you wanted to be successful. No, they were a hindrance. Feelings in general were a hindrance and a sign of weakness. The moment you rely on others, you lose. Be your own person, only trust yourself because no one cares about you and no one can be trusted. Oh yes, he'd learned this lesson well. But every now and then, he allowed the shell to crack. Because even if had made a deal with the devil, it didn't mean that he would deny his feelings forever.  
"Martin? Hey, you're doing it again!" Martin blinked when a hand was waved in front of his eyes. "I… sorry. What?" "WHAT?" Danny asked incredulously. "I've been talking to you for over five minutes now and you – " He shook his head. "You haven't heard a word, have ya?" Martin wracked his brain, trying to come up with a suitable lie, but he was saved by Jack who stepped out of his office, putting a photograph onto the board.  
"Okay guys, we have a case." They gathered around the switchboard and looked at the picture of a man in his late forties with graying hair, a beard and a sharp angled face. Jack opened a file folder.  
"Derning, Michael. Caucasian male, 47, has an apartment in the south bronx. His landlord called it in when Derringer didn't show up to pay for his rent." Viv snorted. "Figures." "When did the landlord call?" Sam asked, already making notes. "Around ten," Jack answered," but they had to check on him first because he sounded really drunk on the phone." Danny sighed. "Great. That means we don't have anything. Possible that Derringer payed the day before or has called and the landlord has forgotten about it." Jack gave Danny a sideward glance, than sighed. "I know, but right now the landlord is all we have. Danny, Martin, I want you to check on him. The name is Arnold Stark." He turned to the other two members of the team. "Viv, check on Derning's bank accounts. If he disappeared on purpose, maybe you'll find something there. Sam, this is Derning's file. That thing has more holes in it than swiss cheese. See what you can find." Martin grabbed his coat and followed Danny out of the office. He had a nagging feeling in his gut, as if he should remember something… but he couldn't grasp it.

------------------------

The wind was tuggin on the long, black coat – but it spite of that, it was already very warm. Chris checked his wristwatch and snorted. Yeah, right. They'd been out there all night, pulling that bust – and it had come out quiet well. Considering the odds. Usually, whenever team 7 was involved, the case would be solved in one way or another, but rarely without the occasional desaster along the way. Or desasters. Like a few days back, when they had assisted Simms and team 9… He couldn't help but smile. Simms had hated the guts of team 7 before – and now he loathed them. Well, maybe the boys had gone too far, but at the time it had felt so perfectly right. Simms and his men deserved it. And if nothing else, it would prevent them from being dragged out as Simm's backup in the middle of the night ever again.  
He sighed and took a good look at the town – yes, he loved this place. Usually, the roof of the building was a prohibited area, but somehow – and Chris really didn't want to know how – Ezra had managed to get hold on a spare key to the security door. Chris had to smile again. Yes, every single member of his team had more than one special ability to add to the whole thing.  
Starting out with Buck – who had been a cop, just like Chris, and who not only was able to drive almost everything that had wheels, but could come up with the craziest ideas. Most of them where long shots, but sometimes, it could make you wonder. Besides that, he was one hell of a fighter and would defend each single team member with his life. Not to mention that he was Chris' oldest friend.  
Josiah not only added his physical strength to the team, but also his devotion for everything he did, and his razor sharp mind. There was rarely anything Josiah overlooked and that made him one of the best profilers around. And besides that, it was his calm demanior and his ability to conzentrate and focus in the most chaotic situations that made him stand out from the crowd. As a trained EMT and an Ex – Army medic, Nathan was the best backup a man could wish for. He always seemed to know when to step in and when to let something slide – but he never fooled around when it came to his work. He took his role in the team very seriously and was the only one – besides from Chris of corse – who was able to come up with the right amount of authority if need be. In a maverick group like Team 7, he was the most likely to sort out the chaos.  
Then there was Ezra… well, Ezra was a league of his own. Of corse he was charming, polite, friendly – and if you didn't know him, that would be all there was to him. But Ezra also had the outstanding ability to convince you of almost EVERYTHING. And it wasn't only in his way with words, it was like his second nature. If he wanted you to believe that the sky was purple, he would pull every trick in the book to convince you of just that – and you wouldn't even realize it. And if you took an even closer look, you would find that there was indeed a caring heart, hidden underneath fine layers of expensive clothing.  
JD, the youngest member of the team, was not only a computer expert – a whiz kid, as Buck called it – but when becoming a member of the team, he had brought in a refreshing wind of change. The boy's mind was always on the move, seeing connections easily overlooked. And once he had read something, he was unlikely to ever forget it. It wasn't photographic memory – it was more like his brain was a computer, too. And then there was his twisted sense of humor, which he shared with most of the members of the team. There was rarely a day Buck and JD didn't come up with some practical joke – and most of the times Ezra, Josiah or even Nathan were involved. And then there was… Vin. Chris sighed. That was another chapter of it's own. The young sharpshooter and weapons expert of the team often took part in the practical jokes and – god forbid– pulled his own. When it came to those, no one was safe. But it was the times when he was silent, just watching, that Chris was reminded of how good they knew each other. Vin had the sharpened senses of a tracker and was an outstanding sharpshooter, but it was the man that really added to the team. He was a kind, friendly spirit but also straight forward and drop down honest if need be. Just like Buck, he would do everything to protect his "brothers". He was young enough to hang out with JD, but at the same time held the wisedom of a man far beyond his years. There was still a lot in Vin's past that Chris and the others didn't know about – but most of the time, Chris didn't care. Vin was his best friend, had been from the first day they had met. That too, was a story of it's own.  
Chris sighed again and stretched a little, enjoying the cool breeze up there, already feeling what would soon be another hot summer day in Denver. "Jeez, cowboy, y'er gettin old. Could've shot you minutes ago and ye would never know what hit ya." Chris grinned without turning around. Of course he had heard Vin step out onto the roof a few minutes ago but hadn't cared to turn to him. He trusted Vin to watch his back – and besides, it always gave him a feeling of safety whenever Vin was around. "Aww, Come on," Chris shot back, now turning around. "Twas a long night, give a guy a break." He was greeted with a mug of coffee and gratefully took it. Next to him, Vin leaned over the railing, sipping from his own cup. He nodded slowly and blinked into the sunlight. "Yeah, guess you're right. Wasn't easy, but we did it. Case closed." Chris nodded in agreement. Both were not men of many words, most of the conversation between them was silent. He shot Vin a sideward glance, trying to supress a grin.  
-Your report already done-  
Vin groaned and rolled his eyes.  
-Don't you go there, pard. No fair-  
"Has to be done, cowboy," Chris shrugged, never missing a beat in their silent conversation. "And besides, don't YOU guys complain about it, you get the easy version. I have to wait for your reports, work through all of them, write mine considering all the details from your reports and hand mine in to Travis. Try that." He snorted. "Ever tried to read through one of Buck's reports? Or Ezra's? It's a nightmare." Vin snorted, taking another sip of his coffee. "Got the cliff notes. Still not really my kind of thing." He stretched in the sunlight. "So, we were thinking, that after all the report stuff, we could head for the saloon and grab a beer and…" Chris' brows shot up. "We? So you have this already planned out?" He barely managed to keep a straight face while almost seeing Buck, JD and Vin coming up with the idea of sneaking out of the office early to get to the "saloon.  
"Aw, come on, cowboy," Vin interrupted Chris' thoughts. "We've been out all night, we pulled it through, the bad guys are going to rot in prison – why not celebrate a bit? We deserve it." Chris nodded slowly, feeling the grin spread on his face. "Yeah… guess we do." With that, Chris turned and headed for the door, feeling Tanner's glare in his back. "AFTER you handed in your reports of corse," Chris added without turning around, answering the silent question of the Texan. "Slavedriver."

---------------

This time, he awoke already sitting upright in his bed. His head was pounding and his alarm clock told him that he again had slept for only two hours. Almost 4 in the morning. Great. He HAD to stop this somehow. Everyone was telling him to let go. To live on. "It's been four years, Chris," he could still hear Buck sigh."You know how much we miss Junior. And that we would do anything. Hell, he's our brother. But… four years, Chris. Think about it. We have to… live on, you know? Maybe it's about time." Chris snorted, surprised by the pain this caused in his sore throat. Live on. To hell with it. No. He would NOT give up. Never. He would NEVER stop searching. He could almost hear Nathan. "You have to think about your health, too, Chris. I can't tell you what to think or what to do – but you are running yourself into the ground. And we won't just stand aside watchin." "My health," he snorted angryly. "My health…" There were other things that were more important. Like finding a friend. Like searching harder before every trail went cold. Like thinking about every possibility. Like…  
The throbbing in his head increased and he groanded, pinching the bridge of his nose. Don't care, don't… No. Not now. Maybe Nathan was right. But what could he do? Sleep? Yeah, right. That was SO out of question. So what else was there? Sighing, he felt for the phone by his bedside and dialed a number he knew by heart.  
"Travis?" "Hi, Mary…" Again, his voice was rough. "Chris?" "Yeah." For a moment, there was silence. Then.  
"Another dream"  
"Yes"  
"Tell me."

Danny Taylor sighed again. Five flights of stairs. And – of corse – the elevator was out of order. He snorted under his breath, taking in the filthy walls, the old stairs, the cigarretes lying on the ground everywhere and the duct tape holding together a crack in a window. One lonely plant on a windowsill, a young, pregnant woman with another child in her arms coming down the stairs in a hurry. Suspicious looks from every person they pass by, even the children. He had to admit, he had expected something like this, and he could deal with it. True, the apartment houses he had lived in so far had never been this bad, but he had his very own experience about living in a place like the Bronx. And as strange as it sounded, he felt better in a place like this than in one of those shiny new office buildings or in a pretty, nice suburbia family home with a garden and a dog. He always felt out of place there, but here – he knew what to expect. How people thought and would react. He shot a sideward glance at his partner.  
Now, Fitz was another thing. Even in his oldest clothes the man would still have looked terribly out of place in an apartment buiding like this. Danny caught himself before he could snort again. Well, What could he expect from a man who had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth? True, Martin was smart and often saw things someone else would have easily overlooked. And then there was this politeness. Yes, Martin was the epitome of politeness, always offering a friendly word or a smile to everyone and he rarely ever lost his temper. In most inverviews that was very helpful, but in a place like this… Martin just did not know anything about people like the ones that lived in this apartement building. Or in a place like the Bronx in general. He did not know how desperate a junkie in need of a fix could be. Or how far a young mother would go for a little money to buy food for her kids. Or how ruthless said kids could be when they saw their chance to trick you. Here, trust was a word rarely used and most of the kids didn't even know what it meant. They trusted no one – and they could not be trusted either. Whenever it came to a case that lead them to a place like this, he caught himself watching out for Martin to prevent him from doing something stupid. Sometimes the man's obliviousness was unnerving. And then again…  
Sometimes he wondered about Martin. Yeah, well. It was clear as day that the man was wearing a mask, that the polite words and the ever present shy smile were nothing more than a perfectly build wall that rarely cracked. Even after two years of working together, Danny barely knew much more about Martin than the day he had joined the team. Most of the time he kept to himself, rarely ever told anything about himself – mostly, nothing more than absolutely necessary. In the first weeks, Danny had thought that was because he was Victor Fitzgerald's son and this was Martin's way of preventing to draw attention to himself. But in the months that followed, he had found out that it was part of the man's character. He smiled slightly upon remembering the first time he had read Martin's file. Two years white collar in D.C. – and then the MPU? Even today that sounded a bit strange. White collar guys didn't hunt for missing persons somewhere in the city. They stayed behind there desks. Did what they were told. Kept in the backround. And Martin? First opportunity he got, he slipped away hunting down that crazy computer nerd on his own. That had been quite a surprise. Well mostly it had been stupid, but it had also shown them that there was more to the ex-white collar guy than they had expected. Of corse it wasn't always that obvious. Mostly it were those tiny details Martin thought nobody would see. For example when he took a step back in a suspects apartement to have a clear view at all possible exits. Or his strange ability to see little details no one else seemed to notice, patterns in the chaos, so to speak. And then sometimes it seemed like Martin knew a lot more about certain things then he let on. Danny remembered one occasion when there'd been a shooting involved in their case and they'd tried to find out wether their missing person had been the shooter or not. After the CSI investigation, ballistics had handed in a report and a sketch of the scene, stating that the distance and the angle of the shot would have been an impossible hit from where their missing person had been standing. Martin had just looked at the sketch of the crime scene with a frown and said:"It's doable…" Jack had shot im a sharp glare. "What?" Danny remembered the shocked look on Martin's face, like he had given away more than he should. He had simply put the sketch back on the desk and never mentioned it again. But it had left them all wondering…  
Just in that moment, Danny's cell phone rang.  
"Taylor." "Danny, it's Sam. Jack want's you and Martin to come back to the office right now." "What?" Danny asked in disbelief. "But we only just arrived and didn't even get a chance to talk to Stark yet…" "Doesn't matter," she interrupted him. "Just come back, there's something you shoulld know." Than she hung up. Danny stared at his cell phone for a moment, than turned to Martin. "Change in plans. Jack wants us to come back to the office." Martin frowned – the nagging feeling that he should remember something important was back full force.

_"How I long for something better_

_in this live I've known too well _

_though I know I'm bound for heaven _

_cause I've done my time in hell."_

Someone once said:"Mother is the word for "god" in the hearts and the mouths of children." Well, maybe "god" is not the right translation, but the mother is of corse the center of the world for a little child. She is warmth, love, care, home, shelter… she is everything. To Vin Tanner, she meant his life. To him, she was the most important being in the world and so much more. Bright blue eyes, long, brown hair, a warm smile and a soothing, gentle voice. Yes, that voice. He could not recall many of the words, mostly just the sound of her voice. Friendly, melodic. Laughing with him when they were happy, lulling him into sleep at night, calling him if need be. He remembered being embraced, taken by the hand and seing the most wonderous places. With her, everything was sparkling and exciting. With her, he felt safe. She was home.  
And then, slowly at first, things started to change. The voice became weaker.  
The touch cooler.  
The strong hands shivered.  
No more embraces.  
No more leaving the apartement.  
No more singing for him.  
Instead, a lot of strangers coming in, telling them they would help, and leaving.  
Most of the time, she stayed in bed. Sleeping.  
Dreaming.  
It was then, that the fear in him grew. The fear that she would no longer be there when he woke up. So he stayed by her side, slept with her hand in his, never leaving her. He caught himself listening to her breathing in the dark, just to be sure that she was still there. Then he remembered being carried away like he was a baby and not five years old. Strange voices telling him to be good and to do what he was told. He remembered asking where they went, why he couldn't go home, where his mother was.  
When he asked them if she was dead, the strange people just stared at him and didn't answer any of his questions any more They wanted to take him away, take him to a place he didn't want to go, simply because his instincts told him that it was not a good idea. Every voice in him was screaming, yelling at him to get away as long as he could.  
And so he ran.

"Could someone please tell me what is going on here?" Danny exploded when they arrived back at the office. "First we fight our way through high noon traffic, then we climb up five flights of stairs just to come back here and"  
"Calm down, Danny, I don't like this either," Jack growled, waiting for them to sit down around the huge table next to the switchboard. Martin immediately noticed that the photo was still there, but the first outlines of the timeline where gone. Usually, nobody touched or erased that timeline, except only to fill in gaps or add details. It was only erased once the case was closed. He frowned again, feeling a slight tingling in the back of his head, like someone was watching him. He flinched. He hadn't felt something like that since…  
Jacks voice brought him back to the here and now.  
"I asked Sam to look into Derning's file," Jack began,"just because we didn't really have much information on him." "And it' didn't get any better," Sam added, taking a deep breath. "Everything, from his ID to his driver's license is a fake and he only moved into that apartement about a week and a half ago. Before that – nothing. I scanned in the photo to get a match and even found one – but the moment I wanted to access the file, my phone started ringing… and that was it." "Excuse me?" Danny shot back in exasperation. "What the hell does that mean?" Viv snorted. "It means that we are most likely off the case. Am I right?" Jack just threw a file folder onto the desk. "His real name is Milo Derringer. He got two years in Denver for several cases of assault and dealing with illegal firearms. His sentence was reduced to two years because he helped bringing down the rest of the weapons ring. He would have been released in two weeks, but somehow he managed to escape. Nobody seems to know how or why. So they are still on him." "Who?" Danny asked, sounding like he already knew the answer.  
"ATF." Jack sighed again. "There's a meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning – until then, we're supposed to sit on our hands." While the others started voicing their protest, Martin just sat there and was trying to take deep, even breaths. This was not happening. It couldn't be happening. He slowly lifted his head to look at the photo on the switchboard once again. Of corse. Now he could see it. A little less grey hair, add a pair of sunglasses… the last time he had seen that man was almost exactely four years ago. A cold feeling spread inside him and he was glad he managed to stand up without drawing too much attention. And for the first time in years, he felt the urge to run. There was only one place he wanted to be right now.

Fire.  
Recoil.  
Fire.  
Recoil.  
Safety glasses.  
Ear protection gears.  
Just his eyes, the target and relieving tunnel vision.  
Nothing else mattered.  
No one disturbed him here.  
Fire.  
Recoil.  
Fire.

-------------

"…well, heating's over there, it's got warm water for the shower and that old TV from Sam JR. is still there too. Don't know if it's still workin' though. Y'll have to see for yourself about that. And then…" The old woman rambeled on while she pointed out several things in the small, dark apartment. But the young man with the bag slung over his shoulder didn't really listen. Instead he walked over to the window and took a deep breath. All he could see in the dawn were the few working street lights, a group of kids sitting on the steps. The sirens in the distance should have worried him. He could hear the children play in the next apartmenent and a dog running around in the apartment above. The elevator didn't work, the staircase was filthy and the walls were oviously paper thin. The smell of cigarettes, smog and several types of exotic food lay heavy in the air. A miscolored spot on one of the thin carpets told him that the window above it was leaking. The heating was tiny and in the furthest corner of the room and the painting on the walls had the appealing color of sour milk. The couch looked like it was missing a lot of it's stuffing (though he could not make out any holes in it from where he was standing) and he had not much hope for the old TV set on that frail looking desk. The kitchen looked like it was at least as old as the landlady – all in all, the whole apartmenet screamed desaster. The young man in the buckskin coat, the faded jeans and the combat boots smiled.  
"This'll do."

---------

_"Think you can handle it?" - "Like lickin' butter of a knife."_

Fire.  
Recoil.  
Fire.  
Recoil.  
Something was wrong. He was no longer alone. He took a deep breath and shot another round of six before he lowered his weapon and looked to his left. Danny. Of corse. The other agent slowly lifted his hands off his ears and shook his head. "So here's where you've been hiding." He tsked through his teeth. "You didn't answer your phone." Martin slowly took off the ear protection gears. Danny sighed in exasperation. "I SAID you didn't answer your cell phone." Martin just shrugged. "So? Jack told us not to do anything until tomorrow morning." Danny's eyes narrowed angrily. "Are you even aware of what is happening around you! Another agency is going to take over the case, shutting us out! Doesn't that bother you at all? All you do is hide down here and … wait a second…" Danny slowly turned around and stared at the target in the distance. What the hell was that about? Usually they used targets at a distance of 50, sometimes 75 yards. But this…he could barely make out the target areas on it. He turned back to Martin, his eyes wide. "What… what distance is that!" Martin frowned for a moment, than he slowly realised what he had been doing for over 30 minutes now… and what Danny had just witnessed. The cold inside him was back and his mind raced to come up with some plausible explanation – or at least a good lie. But it was no use, the evidence – the target – was foolproof and clearly visible. "It's… ",Martin swallowed. "It's 150 yards. That's as far back as it would go," he added with a shrug, like he was apologizing for it. Danny just looked at him like he just saw a ghost and turned the switch that would bring the target back towards them. Martin turned white. "Danny, come one, don't… don't do this.." Danny just grinned at him with a somewhat crazy sparkle in his eyes and held on to the switch. The target moved towards them without mercy – and the closer it got, the more Martin seemed to shrink. When the target arrived, Danny ripped it off and stared at it. There were two large holes: one in the target's head and one where it's heart should be. They were both center mass and in a tight circle. Danny snorted and looked back and forth between Martin and the target. "You did that." Martin wasn't sure if that was a question or a statement, so he just stood there and did nothing. Danny still clutched the target, than he realised all the other targets lying on the ground next to Martin. They all looked the same. "You did that," Danny repeated and let the target go, ignoring how it slowly slid to the ground. Martin still just stood there, the ear protectors around his neck, the safety goggles still on. He sighed and took them off. The cold in him was spreading even more and it felt like a frozen fist was clawing at his heart. He could almost feel the fragile house of cards that was his life shiver and finally fall.  
"Yes," he said almost inaudibly, defeat in his voice. "What do you want, Danny?" Danny almost chocked. "What – WHAT do I WANT! Martin what is going ON here! You have been acting strange for days and you are asking ME what I WANT! What is going ON with you! And what is this.." he pointed at the rest of the shooting range, "… all about! What are you, a fucking sniper! How did you… where…" "Rangers. First batallion. Three years." The words sounded hollow, lacking all emotion. Martin just stared at Danny, his eyes cold. "That what ya wanted ta hear"  
While Martin haden't even realised falling back into his soft, Texas accent, Danny heard it immediately. And it confused him even more. He slowly stepped away from Martin, shaking his head in disbelief. Then he turned and left without looking back.

The man on the old couch slowly woke to the soft clicking sound of a computer keyboard. He moaned softly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. After blinking a few times he finally realised that someone was staring right at him. He smiled slightly and patted the little girl on the head. She was kneeling on the ground right next to the sofa.  
"Mornin' Isabel. You guys are mighty early today, huh? Somethin' special?" She snorted up her nose and simply shook her had.  
"Isa, stop that," a voice chimed up from the back of the room. Vin recognized Julio's voice and remembered the 15 year old boy asking him about writing a paper on Vin's computer the other day. "Met Isa on the steps and you see…" Vin smiled and slowly sat up on the couch. "'s okay, Julio. How's that paper of yers goin'?" The boy grimassed. "Don't ask." Vin frowned. "Ya need any help?" Julio shook his head. "Nah. Just a little more time. It's due for Friday." Vin nodded and went for the kitchen to get some coffee. He heard the door of the apartement open and close and when he came back to the small living room, the number of kids around the computer had risen to five. Little Isabel's brother Luka had finally found his sister and brought in two friends as it seemed. Vin recognized Carlos Delveara – who was about 13 years old, a little younger than Luka – and Gabriel, a friend of Luka's (but Vin couldn't for the life of him remember his last name. He didin't really like that. Usually he knew all the kids that were running around here.) "Hey, Isabel," he turned to the little girl. "Would you mind giving that to your mom from me?" He handed her a pack of sugar. "She lend me some the other day. Okay?" The girl snorted again, clutched the little doll she was holding a bit tighter, grabbed the sugar and left the apartment. The other kids exchanged worried looks. Vin sending the little one away could only mean that he wanted to talk to them. Really "talk". And that was never a good thing. "Okay," Vin said calmly, sitting down on the edge of the sofa and eyed the kids carefully. "Now spill it." Four sets of eyes stared at him for a moment.  
"Now don't ya kids play dumb with me," Vin growled. "I am gone fer not even a week and what do I hear as soon as I get back?" The eyes widened all at the same time. "We didn't do nothin!" Carlos finally blurted out. Luka ellbowed his friend in the ribs, but it was too late. Vin crossed his arms and waited. Julio finally turned around in the computer chair and sighed. "It's true, Vin. We were here." Vin thought about that for a moment. He knew Julio was often unnerved by the younger ones and expecially disliked Carlos. So why should he lie? Maybe it was true. Then he smiled slowly, taking in his bait.  
"You were here when WHAT happened?" Julio opened and closed his mouth without a sound, Carlos bit his bottom lip, Gabriel drew his hand over his eyes and Luka simply groaned. Vin grinned. Hook, line and sinker.  
"The fight," Julio finally admitted with a sigh. "We were up here and saw it through the window." Vin slowly nodded. The old Miss Mariella had already told him about the little scene between the two rivalling gangs two days before. He'd been out on a bounty and found Mariella wandering the staircase when he came home. Since then he'd tried to get more information – and these kids where the best chance he would get.  
"Who was there?" he asked carefully, his eyes narrowed. Usually, the Lobos - "his kids", were smarter than to start a fight with the older ones from the other block. This was unusual and he wanted nothing more than to get to the bottom of it. Something must have happened to set his kids of like that. Again he was rewarded with silence. "Come on," he urged them on impatemtly. "I already saw Cole sporting a black eye and the cast on Letty's arm. What the HELL happened here? Who was there"  
He was about to repeat the question when to his surprise Gabriel spoke up. "I think I saw Tony and… and Tank….and….and…" "Benji," Luka finally added under his breath, his head bent. Vin's eyes narowed.  
"Benji!" he said in disbelief and turned to Julio. The older boy nodded slowly. Vin cursed through his teeth and punched the couch. "And I thought he really…" He sighed. Benji was one of the older kids, and one of those who had been the worst when Vin first moved into the house. Looking at it today, Benji had somewhat started the whole thing about Vin and the kids. That boy had had the nerve to brake into the apartment only one day after Vn had moved in – and Vin had caught him. The rest… was a long story. Usually Benji took over Vin's role and watched out for the younger ones whenever Vin wasn't there.  
"It wasn't his fault," Luka spoke up, suddenly becoming agitated.  
"It was Dom! He came here with his friends, started calling Benji names and pushing him around"  
"Whoa there," Vin interrupted the kid. "We talkin' about Dom Loumes? Since when's he out"  
"Couple o'days," Julio answered darkly. Vin seemd to sag a bit. Then he straightened. "Okay guys, here's what we'll do. I want you – Luka, look at me! I want you kids ta stay away from the streets as much as possible. Luka, watch out fer that little sister o' yours." He turned to Julio. "You write that paper. Carlos, Gabe, I want you two to keep an eye on Miss Mariella. Since she's livin' on the ground floor near the door she ain't safe." The two boys nodded slowly and Luka visibly swallowed. Julio cleared his throat. "What… what will you do?" Vin's expression turned dark. "I'll have a little talk with Loumes."

---------------------

Martin sighed. He had caught himself staring out of the window minutes ago, but somehow his eyes were glued to the city lights below. Nothing. He shot a glance at his wristwatch and snorted. Yeah well, why was he not surprised? It was two in the morning. In this part of town, there was hardly any activity at this early – or late – hour. He barely heard street noice, voices or sirens - nothing. Of corse this was mostly because his appartement was at the 15th floor. But still. He missed it. All bad times be dammed, he missed it badly. He missed the street noise, the footsteps from an apartement above, the dogs barking. And the children. God, he missed the children running around and knocking on his door whenever they liked. Well, there were no children in this apartement building. Most of the people who lived here were working singles, career junkies as he liked to call them. Waking up at half past five, heading for the office at half past six, coming home at half past ten in the evening. He laughed bitterly. And he was one of them. He stared at his own hands and like so many times before, he found it hard to believe what kind of person he was now. Career oriented. Cold. Detached. Keeping to himself. Only interested in his own well being. Everything he had always hated in a person. And there was nothing he could do about it. The feeling of cold returned, making it hard to breath. And for the first time ine years, the feeling of being caged was back. The walls seemed to be closing in on him and not even the large windows helped this time. He stepped back from the windows, slowly walking backwards, until he reached the middle of the room. He losened his tie, throwing it to the ground, trying to catch his breath. He closed his eyes tightly.

His claustrophobia. The way he had liked his coffie.  
Being a sharpshooter.  
Milo Derringer.  
His appartment in Purgatorio.  
The kids.  
Dom Loumes.

Why was all that coming back now! Why was it haunting him still, after all those years? These things seemed to be coming from another life. And they were. They belonged to a life he had left behind, because… No, he spat at himself mentally.  
There is no reason that really counts.  
You are a coward. That's why. And that is NO excuse. So whatever you are going through now, you deserve it.

He slowly and shakily sat down on the ground, leaning his back against the couch. Looking around he again compared this appartement to the one he'd had back then. He remembered getting up at six so that he could still catch some hot water in the shower before the others stood up and the boiler would be empty. He remembered painting the walls in a color that came at least close to white, but at most places, the god – awful green-grey color had still peeked through. Somehow he had managed to get that old TV set working. He smiled when he remembered realising that the display was monochrome. "She never mentioned that," he snorted, thinking of the old landlady he had later come to know as Miss Mariella. Not knowing had been the worst. Not knowing what had happened to his friends, if they were alright, if they still worked as a team. Chris…  
No. Checking on them had been impossible. But not the kids. He had HAD to know if the Lobos were alright. So after his first year back in DC, he had caught a flight to Denver in the middle of the night and caught a cab that had dropped him off close to the outskirts of Purgatorio. He remembered walking those streets in the darkness. And he remembered praying. Praying that he would at least see one of his kids. He had hid in the shadows close to his old appartement building and seen a few kids sitting on the stairs. He could still feel the lump in his throat fade away when he had recognized Julio, Benji, Luka and Carmen, a friend of Benji's. On the steps below he had been able to make out a few of the youngsters, talking and joking. Benji had been tinkering on his guitar as usual and Julio had just sat there, listening. A few minutes later, Mariella had called for them and Benji had ushered the little group inside.  
Back then, it had been enough for Martin to know that everything would turn out well. Benji had obviously come back to his senses and hopefully taken over Vin's role as their protector and friend if need be. It had helped him getting some peace.. but not entirely.  
The feeling of betrayal and cowardice had remained and clung to him ever since. You ran, he cursed himself. You ran like a little kid and did what you were told. You HAD a choice.  
There is ALWAYS a choice.  
Right?  
Again he had to take a deep breath, but this time, it didn't help. He covered his eyes with his hands and tried to shut the world out. It didn't work. The memories came flooding back to him and the room kept on closing in. With shaky hands he reached for his cell phone in his pocket and dialed a number he knew by heart.

"Yeah?" Of corse the voice was tired and sounded muffled, like there was a pillow in the way. "Hey Maddie," he managed to croak out.  
"MARTIN!" From one moment to the next, the voice sounded wide awake. "Martin is that you? What the – what time is it?" Suddenly Martin felt stupid. "It's.. around two… I'm sorry Mad, I shouldn't have called you, I"  
"No no no," the female voice interrupted him. "Martin, I'm in town. What's wrong"  
For a moment, Martin was stunned. He hadn't expected that. Well, he had expected to talk to the mailbox of her cell phone at best. But this… was a little sudden. "You're here?" he asked carefully. "In New York?" There was a snort at the other end of the line. "No Martin, I'm in Paris. What do you think?" Then the sarcasm dissappered and her voice sounded concerned. "You want me to come over?" Again Martin was at a loss of words. He hadn't seen her since… well, since christmas and now she was here? He didn't really know how to handle that. "I.. I don't know…" "Of corse you do," she again interrupted him. "I wanted to visit you anyways. I'll grab a cab – should take me about 15 minutes. Tell Miles, okay? Last time I had to fight with him to get in." With that, she hung up. Martin couldn't help but smile when he remembered that "last time" Maddie had tried to get into this apartement building. Miles was very strickt and took his job as a doorman very seriously and back then Maddie had looked a little… disshevelled after the long trip from DC. He had refused to let her in until Martin had finally come down and confirmed to Miles that she was okay. So he finally stood up with a sigh and left his apartement for the elevator. He made it down just in time to see the young woman climb up the stairs to the main entrance. Miles was awake and on duty as usual and quirked an eyebrow at Martin. He looked at his wristwatch just so that Maritn could see it and Martin smiled a little embarassed. Finally, Miles opened the door and Maddie rushed in and gave Martin a quick hug. Martin was a little surprised by this but tried not to let it show. When they stepped into the elevator, they saw Miles shot them a disgrunteled look. "I tell you, that man hates me," Maddie whispered to Martin and they both smiled.

Half an hour later, they where both sitting in two chairs they had turned to one of the huge windows, drinking coffee. Maddie had turned down the lights and Martin was surprised to find that he liked the way the street lights from below luminated the apartement now. It was more like a faint glow and somehow.. relaxing. They both looked out of the window, not saying a word for minutes. Finally, Martin broke the silence.  
"So, how's Dad"  
Maddie snorted. "How should I know? I haven't been home in.. let me check…three months?" Martin nodded slowly and gave her an apologeptic smile. In his mind she was still a little girl and would always be. But Madeline Fitzgerald was 27 now, the once long brown curls were cut shorter and colored red, and she'd developed a visible tan. For some reason, she had insisted on going to college in LA and unlike Martin she had always had the iron will and the perseverance to get what she wanted. After college she'd stayed in LA and was now working in a lawyers office. "But Mum… Anne… called me yesterday," Maddie went on. Martin nodded. "Did she"  
"Yes. Just the usual smalltalk. Sends her greetings." "Thanks." Maddie groaned. "God, listen to us! We're starting to sound just like THEM! Sometimes I hate them both"  
Martin didn't dare to nod. And that was exactely the point. He had always envied her for her way to be straight forward with her feelings. For her freedom to express them whenever she felt like it. He remembered the many times she had stood up against Victor Fitzgerald and Martin had always watched in awe and desperately tried to find that strength and curage in himself. "Hey," she interrupted him, waving a hand in front of his eyes. "No zoning out on me okay?" Martin blinked and smiled again. "Sorry." She nodded slowly, eyeing him carefully.  
"Martin, why did you call me?" For a moment he was at a loss again. Why had he dialed her cell phone number? There was no reason. Or was there?  
"Thought your mailbox would answer?" She snorted again and lunged over to him to punch his shoulder. "Yeah right. Try again." When he didn't answer right away, she turned around in her chair to face him. She looked him over and didn't like what she saw. "You haven't been sleeping again, have you?" she asked sharply, an accusing tone in her voice. "Is this about Dad again? I told you, one day you two will kill each other.." "No," he interrupted her. "No, Dad's not involved. At least, not yet." She frowned when she heard how tired his voice sounded and how… worried. And finally she understood.  
"Oh my… this is about THEM, right?" She took his hand and held it tightly. "What happened?" Martin had to smile at her. How often had it been like this in the past? Maddie and him against the rest of the world? Under the watchful eyes of an over protective and controlling father and with no real "mother" to turn to, they'd often teamed up and bathed in each other's strength. Like now. "You know I…" he started, his voice hoarse,"I never … I never really apologized to you back then. I shouldn't have left you alone with… with them…for all those years…" She took his other hand too. "Martin!" she shouted, shaking her head in disbelief. "How can you ever think that! I was so PROUD of you back then! When they found out and I heard about it… I was so envious!" She grinned. "You were my hero, you know? I would have never dared to do what you did." He couldn't really share her enthusiasm. "But you were only a kid and…" "I was fourteen!" she shot back. "And what does that have to do with it anyway?" She again shook her head. "You did the right thing. He would have destroyed you and you know it. And don't look at me like that, I know what I am talking about. Do you have any idea how glad I was that his attention was focused on YOU all the time? It would have driven me crazy if he had watched my every move like he watched yours. I know I was the lucky one, don't get me wrong. You did what you thought was best at the time and I would never hold that against you." Martin sighed deeply. On the one hand he was thankful for her support, on the other hand he felt the need to take away her kind of romantic point of view on this.  
"You don't know half of it," he whispered, taking his hands away from her's. "I… I planned that, back then. Every little detail." He searched her eyes for an indication that she understood. "I knew exactely that being sent off to college was my only chance. So I went there, signed in so that the paperwork wouldn't get in the way and stayed a while to assure everyone that I was doing okay… and then I ran. I had sent a bag to a post office close to college weeks before and went there to get it. It held all the money I possessed back then, clothes, food…I even had a fake ID and drivers licence. And I knew where to go." Maddie nodded. "The army." She knew, of corse she knew. She was the only other person in the world – aside from himself – who knew the whole story. He had told her after he had… come back.  
"Yes," he nodded, "and do you know why?" He smiled bitterly. "Not because I wanted it or liked it. I did it because they wouldn't ask too many questions. And because Dad would have never looked for me there." She shrugged. "I figured as much. What else is new?" Martin let out a breath in exasperation. Why didn't she understand! He really tried to tell her the truth, but she… this was not RIGHT! He had ran away back then, left her alone and disappeared for years! He was sure that they had thought he was dead – how could she ever forgive him for that! "Martin," she said sharply, sending him a glare. "I don't really get what you are trying to tell me here. I have known about all this for a long time – and what I didn't know, I somehow figured out on my own. Why are you trying to .. to… I don't even know a word for what you are doing to yourself here. You are not a bad person and you had your reasons for what you did. End of story." He rolled his eyes and turned back to stare out of the window. He had so hoped that at least she would understand…  
"I'm really sorry," she interrupted his thoughts, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm sorry I can't join you on your little self – pitty ride. And you know what? I've seen this coming." He turned to her again and glared at her angryly, but it just bounced off of her. "I miss you so much. I miss the Martin from four years ago." She looked into the distance. "Right after you were back, you were so.. angry. Determined. You were full of energy, the complete opposite of the person I remembered. And all I could think was that whatever had happened to you, whoever you'd met in those years you were gone changed you for the better. Remember how you faced off Dad back then?" The enthusiasm in her eyes turned down after she gave him another look over. "What…what happened to you, Martin?" She again took his hands. "I mean… look at you. You are running around with a burden – and this burden is your LIFE!" She snorted. "I mean the life you live NOW. Tell me what you want, but you are NOT happy. When you first joined the MPU and I visited you.. I thought that maybe this was it. You seemed so much more relaxed than in DC. But now it's back to square one." She took a deep breath.  
"And that takes us back to the big question: what happened"  
He took a deep, shuddering breath.  
"An old ATF case showed up as a missing person." She sucked in a breath. "Oh. So what's gonna happen now?" For a moment Martin evaluated telling her that this information was classified, but her glare made him reconsider that thought.  
"ATF is still on the case and they'll send someone here tomo – I mean, this morning. Around ten, I guess." She nodded slowly. "Was… was that one of your cases?" she carefully asked, not really sure what else to do. "No," he answered and she was surprised to hear both sadness and relief in his voice. "It was a case of a nother team, but we were there as backup when they arrested the suspect." She frowned. "Then why are you so worried? If it wasn't your team's case, they'll hardly sent someone you know. Or am I wrong here"  
"I am not worried," he shot back – and that was all it took for her to see right through him. She stood up from her chair and kneeled down in front of his. She sighed deeply. "I can't say that I really understand you, you know. You could be happy. You could go back and have everything you want. I can see how much you long to be there, with them." She held his hands tighter. " You know what? The first days you were back those four years ago, I expected you to run again. As much as I liked the "new and improved" Martin…" she smiled for a moment, "…I really hoped you would take the chance. I thought: He has almost lived the same amount of years with this family and without it. Now is the best time. Don't let him get involved again. But…" She sighed. "You stayed. I really don't know why you are stiill here - I can only imagine that Dad has some kind of hold on you that I don't know about. But I know one thing for sure: Vin Tanner is a part of you and will always be. I can almost picture him, you know." Suddenly, her grin was back. "I saw that buckskin coat." Then she turned serious again. "And I know this may sound egoistical - but in my oppinion…when there's something you really, really long for, you don't have to answer to anyone. Just go for it." She sighed deeply, stood up and stretched. "You know what? I'll take the couch. Get some shut eye. You should try that, too. Still got a few hours before you have to leave for work, right"  
He was a little baffled about that change in topic – but on the other hand, that was pure Maddie. He had always struggled to keep up with her fast moodswings and her way to jump from one topic to the next in an instand. So all he could do was nod. She yawned loudly and waved at him. "Now what? You wanna watch? Give a girl some privacy." And with that , he was ushered into his bedroom. Later, he couldn't even remember how he got into the bed.

to be continued

Ack! Please don't be mad at me. I have no idea where this came from. It just kinda happened. I will continue this, I promise!


	2. Chapter 2

**The ties that bind - Chapter Two**

DISCLAIMER: The Magnificent Seven and Without a Trace are not mine. The ATF universe is all MOGs and there are not enough words in the world to thank her for that. I am writing this just for fun. The lyrics are from the song "St. Elmo's Fire", performed by Jon Parr on the movie soundtrack of the same name and the song "Home" by cringe Westlife. Yeah, I knooow. I don't really like the band or the song, but the lyrics are nice. AUTHOR'S COMMENT: I am SORRY this took so long! Real life got in the way! But I am sure as hell not abandoning this. There'll be a longer comment at the end of this chapter.

And two more things: English is not my native tongue, so please don't be mad if there are (tons of) typos in this. And: I am still fighting with the formatting system. It seems to hate me. Example: All my question marks seem to disappear. So whenever there's no punctuation at the end of a sentense, it's most likely a missing question mark. grumble

SPOILERS: For all of you who kow Without a Trace: This takes place somewhere half way through season two of the show. I used a few refferences to episodes of season one : "Pilot" , "Birthday Boy", "Midnight Sun" , "In Extremis". Season two: "A tree falls.  
ERRATA: Of corse Milo Derringer got 7 years of prison sentence (which was reduced to four years) and not just two. My bad. Oops. (Otherwise the timeline doesn't make any sense)  
When Martin mentioned the Rangers it should have been FOUR years. Not three. Oops No. 2. Of corse Martin did two years "White Colar" in SEATTLE, not in DC. Oops No. 3.

AH! Wait! I wanted to thank the reviewers!

Ginevra: Achem. Wanna now a secret? I have no idea where this will go. I make things up while I write! And thank you for liking Maddie, a lot of people hate OC s!

Sandy: Ahaha, thank you for the review and sorry this took so long. He will meet them eventually :) MistX: Wow, thank you for the long review! And you are right about a few things. Which, I won't tell!

Slea: Here you are :) I hope you like it. And Thanks for the review!

And a special thank you to Kristina ! I really enjoyed our little email - conversation!

* * *

_"You know in some way you're a lot like me _

_me you're just a prisoner trying to break free."_

_

* * *

_

"You know what? I'll take the couch. Get some shut eye. You should try that, too. Still got a few hours before you have to leave for work, right"  
Martin was a little baffled about that change in topic – but on the other hand, that was pure Maddie. He had always struggled to keep up with her fast moodswings and her way to jump from one topic to the next in an instand. So all he could do was nod. She yawned loudly and waved at him. "Now what? You wanna watch? Give a girl some privacy." And with that , he was ushered into his bedroom. Later, he couldn't even remember how he got into the bed.

That night, he dreamed of the world suddenly turning upside down, and of screeching sounds like metal scraping over pavement – followed by darkness, pain and confusion. The panic rising inside him felt so real. And the pain. He heard voices, talking to him, trying to reach him. But they sounded muffled, like he was underwater. He could not understand what they were saying. It sounded like they were asking him questions. No. It was always the same question, repeated over and over. He tried to understand, to get the meaning of that question instead of only hearing the voice. But pain was flaring up in his back and his head was pounding and everything hurt and god dammnit, he couldn't understand a word the voices were saying. Even in the darkness he could feel that something was not right, no, something was indeed terribly, terribly wrong. He had the nagging feeling that he should be somewhere else, that all this was not real, but still there was this voice asking that same stupid question again and again. He tried to make them understand that he was obviously to far away to hear what they were saying, but no words came out of his mouth. It felt like he was caged, he couldn't move and why was it so dark? The panic increased and that voice wouldn' t stop asking him things he could not answer. He tried to make it stop, to tell the voice to leave him alone, but the pounding in his head increased and it all got too much. Finally, after trying to listen really hard, he managed to make out two words in the chaos of them muffled voices. He knew those words. "Fitzgerald"… and …"D.C.".

It wasn't like some of those typical "waking from a nightmare –scenes" you sometimes saw on TV where the person sits upright in bed or even screams. No, there was no way of telling where the nightmare ended and reality began. Darkness. It was still dark. But the pain was gone and thank god for that. It was still hard to breathe. It took a few minutes for his heartbeat to slow down to normal and even longer for his eyes to make out the shapes of the furniture in the darkness. Finally he turned his head to look at the alarm clock on his nightstand. 4:47. Great. Well, at least he had slept for – wow – two hours. But going back to sleep was out of question, because after that nice nightmare experience he was wide awake. It wasn't the dream itself. No, he had had dreams – nightmares – like this before. But the last one of those had been… years back. And that was what worried him. He had had the occasional nightmare every few weeks after being "back", but after a while, it had stopped. So why now? And why about THIS! Ha, he mocked himself mentally. Like you don't know. He tried to ban that mocking voice into the darkest corner of his mind and rose from the bed. Not caring to switch on the light he padded around in the darkness to find his clothes. He was not afraid of the darkness. No, that would have been a hindrance back then. In fact he had no problem moving around in the darkness, finding his way without light. But that didn't mean he liked it. So stepping into the bathroom and switching on the light in there was a bit of a relief. Looking out of the window he was not surprised to see the first traces of dawn around the edges of the skyline. Well, it was still early, but maybe the perfect time for his morning run. Since sleep was out of question. He stepped out of the bathroom and into the living room, scanning the place for his running shoes which had somehow vanished from the spot next to the door to his apartment where he usually left them.

"Plant", came a muffled voice from the couch. For a moment he was surprised, then he remembered. Maddie. And he was even more surprised when he found that she was right - his running shoes had been neatly placed half behind a potted plant. Maybe she had stumbled over them and eliminated the "danger".

"Thanks", he answered with a smile and slipped into the shoes. Her head appeared when she sat up, her hair an unruly, auburn mess. She mumbled something to herself, scratching her head.

"Time s'zit?"

"Almost five."  
The answer was a groan and something that sounded like "Oh my god." She watched him for a moment and then snorted.

"You," she stated seriously, "are insane." He just laughed. Maybe she was right.

"What will you do?"

She let herself sink back into the cusions. "I don't know. Sleep? Something that's a little more mature than running around in the streets of New York at five in the morning?"

Now he snorted. "Like what? Watching cartoons?"

She smiled dreamily. "Problably."

------------------------------------------

"You know WHAT? I'm outta here!"

The explosion had not come unexpected. They had worked on two different, very complicated cases at the same time, including extensive research and undercover work. Chris had given out one asignment after the next to somehow organise the chaos that was about to destroy all their hard work. Next to that he'd had to argue with Travis and the other team leaders about almost every step he took to prevent his team from losing one of the cases they had put so much work into. They had worked with other teams on several occasions – except for time 9 if they could avoid it, thank you very much – to get things right. But between justifiying their every move, countless nights without sleep and trying to stick to protocol as far as possible, things had gone downhill. While they had only managed to arrest their first suspect for possesion of illegal firearms (not for dealing with them), that was acceptable compared to their second case - which had ended with two members of team 4 in the hospital, a horrendous amount of bureau eqiupment torn to shreds and an insane weapons dealer on the run. In short: they'd had nothing except for a filthy guy from California screaming for his lawyer who had been free and back in the streets in no time. Of corse they had all been tired and frustrated, trying to avoid any confrontation. Well, all except Vin of corse. While he was usually not a man of many words, he never held back with his oppinion if he felt that he was right about something. Usually that was a good idea, but facing off Chris about a desaster like this was probably not. This had ended in the usual Chris and Vin "arguement" – which meant that they would stare at each other angryly for minutes, just to start shouting at each other out of nowhere, which was again followed by angry glares and silence. And so on and so forth. It had not only been erie, but also unnerving. And… later they had all agreed on the fact that on that day, something had been different. Like this argument hadn't been about the bust, but about something else entirely. Something essential and much more important. Finally, Vin had grabbed his coat and stated that he was "outta here" – which was usually his way of saying that he was taking a few days off.

"In your dreams!" Chris had growled back and they had again stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Chris had crossed his arms, asking Vin through his teeth how long he would be gone.

"Two weeks. No less." After that, Vin had turned around on his heels and left the office without looking back. In the end, Chris had somehow managed to convince Travis to give their whole team the two weeks off before facing fhe aftermath of the mess. During the first week Buck and JD had stayed in contact with Josiah and Nathan, while Vin, Chris and Ezra had been unreachable. In the middle of week two Buck had finally visited Chris and talked some sense into him… and from one moment to the next, they had been standing in Vin's arpartment in Purgatorio. In Vin's EMTPY apartement in Purgatorio.  
That had been four years ago.

Buck sighed. Sitting here in the office at five in the morning thinking about that would not help, he knew that. But since JD and him had to catch up on some paperwork (as usual), they'd both agreed to get in early today. While JD was obviously typing away like crazy, Buck couldn't really find the heart to even start his report. "Would you stop brooding?" JD's voice suddenly startled him. "Chris is doing enough of that for all fo us together." He had stopped typing and was now staring at his friend.

"Sorry." JD's eyes narrowed while he was munching away on a leftover taco.

"You should really start writing that report, you know"  
"I know." JD sighed. This was going nowhere. Usually, a situation like this – being in early and having the whole office fto themselves – would have lead to food fights, loud music or the preperations for a practical joke at the others expence. But today the mood was… subdued. He didn't like that. So, diversion.  
"When are the others gonna be in?" Buck thought for a moment.

"Josiah's gonna be early as usual, maybe in thirty. Nathan around seven, just like Chris. And you know Ezra – he's not gonna be in before nine." JD snorted. "Make that ten."

"Probably."

"What about Gabe? He with us today?"

"Nah, don't think so." Buck reached for a Taco. "Rumor says something really went wrong on Simm's latest case, so they'll need everyone."

JD looked over at the desk Gabe Kincaid usually occupied whenever he helped out.

"You know," he added, deep in thought, "for a member of team nine Gabe is an ok guy – and one hell if a shot. Besides, he spends more time here than with his own team anyways. So why-"

"JD," Buck growled, knowing where this was headed. "Leave it." JD lifted his hands in mock surrender. "Gee. Calm down. I was just sayin'." "Yeah. I know." In that moment, they could hear the phone in Chris' office start ringing. JD frowned when the number appeared on the display of his phone too.

"Mhm. Speak of the devil." After mouthing a silent "Gabe" to Buck, he answered the phone with is usual enthusiasm. "Hey Gabe, what…nah, he isn't in yet. Uhuh… oh. Okay. Sure. I'll tell him. No problem. Yeah. Okay bye." JD frowned and shook his head.

"No THAT was strange." He turned in his chair to face Buck. "Gabe just told me that he's not gonna be in town for a while and that it's related to their case…" Buck shrugged. "What's so strange about that?"

"I don't know. It's not what he said. More HOW he said it. Buck, he sounded like somebody died."

That caught the other man's attention. They'd known Gabe for a while. He had started helping out at team seven about two years ago and kept on visiting them almost once a week. The red haired, friendly man was in his mid - thirties and usually kept in the background. He had a friendly word for everyone and rarely showed anything but his trademark, shy smile. He would have never worried JD by giving away what he felt like he just did – so this had to be serious. Buck sat up in his chair.

"What's team nine's latest case?" JD answered with a grim expression of his own.

"Let's find out."

--------------------------

Martin stepped out of the elevator and checked his watch. Six thirty. He took a deep breath. Still early. Well, this wouldn't change anything about the fact that hell would break lose in about… three and a half hours. He hadn't been able to enjoy his run and had returned back to his apartment after only half an hour. Maddie had surprised him with a breakfast (consisting of burned toast and coffee that was nothing more than brown water) and the wonderful news (insert sarcasm here) that she had just called her office to take a few more days off. Oh, the joy. Of corse she had generously offered to stay in a hotel, all the while knowing that Martin would never refuse to let her stay. After only a few minutes she had convinced Martin that letting her stay at his appartment had been his idea from the beginning. Or so she thought. Now, why did that remind Martin of someone else he had once known..? The smile on his face died immediately when he found out that one of the desks in their part of the open office was already occupied. Danny. Great. Martin cursed through his teeth – something he'd caught himself doing quite often lately – and sighed. Well, it had to happen sooner or later. So he stepped up to his own desk and sat down. Danny seemed engrossed in whatever it was he was reading and didn't bother to look up from his computer screen. Of corse he had already realised that he was no longer alone. Martin watched him for a while and finally gave up. "What are you doing?"

"Research," was the tight lipped reply. Uh-oh. It had to be bad if Danny, who almost never sat still and who was able to talk a mile a minute – in various languages – gave one syllable answers. Huh. Two could play that game. "About what?"

"You."

Well shit. "Uhuh."

"Yeah, because you know," now Danny stood up and stared at him, "there are obviously a lot of things that we didn't know about you."

"We?" Of corse this question was just a lame diversion – Martin knew that Danny hadn't talked to anyone about that little "incident" on the shooting range yet. He wouldn't do that. But Martin was willing to cling to the last piece of straw if it helped getting out of this – whatever this was. Because Danny was now leaning against the desk next to Martin's and stared at Martin with that look on his face. That look he usually used on suspects who were obviously lying. And Martin didn't really like to be on the receiving end of one of those looks. So huh, maybe attack was the best defence. He tried to glare back and crossed his arms. "What?" Danny's eyes narrowed even more and now he too crossed his arms.

"Greg Pritchard."

For a moment Martin was at a loss and almost stumbled over his own words. "What the – excuse me?"

"Greg and Kyla Pritchard," Danny went on, his voice calm. "Of corse you remember them. The guy who went into witness protection program and had to lie to his wife for years…"

"Of corse I remember them," Martin interrupted him harshly, feeling his patience slipping away.

"And of corse you remember what happened after the hearing, right in front of the Federal Courthouse that day. Don't you?" The arlarms in Martin's head went off. He now knew what Danny was getting at. And that wasn't good.

"That little show we had planned out to get Pritchard out of the line of fire." Danny stepped closer to Martin's desk, invading his personal space on purpose. "But you were not quite sticking to the plan, were you?"

"What are you talking about?" Martin demanded, although even to his own ears it sounded lame. Danny nodded slowly, his trademark smirk flashing. "Well, then let me explain it to you, Martin. Pritchard was wearing a vest, just as planned. He was surrounded by people – reporters, agents, bystanders. And then there was the sharpshooter on the roof of the building, just like we expected. He fired at Pritchard, Prichard went down, panic ensued. And you…" He paused there to glare at Martin once more, "you had to go and shoot at the guy on the roof."

"Jack told me to make it look real!" Martin shot back, feeling more cornered than ever before in his life. Right here and now, everything started to break into tiny pieces.

"Oh, and you did," Danny went on, smirking again. "But that wasn't just show, right? That was the real deal. You were really going for it. You could have hit that guy on the roof."

"That's bullshit and you know it!" Damn. Damn! Calm down, Martin chided himself mentally. Losing it in the middle of the office will get you nowhere. He knew himself well enough to know that he sometimes said or did stupid things when he was angry. And obviously Danny knew that, too. He took a deep breath and decided to try something else. Since diversion was never really working when Danny was on to something, Martin decided to play along.  
"Is this what you've been doing all morning? Reading through our files to find information on ME!"

Danny just spread his arms, a file in one hand. "Okay, great." Martin was at a loss. "And now what? Are we gonna go through every single case and – what?"

"Maybe you are right and I am imagining things", Danny went on, still smirking. "But what about… Anwar Samir?"

And before Martin could stop himself, he was out of his chair.

"Back off," he growled, unable to keep his usual calm. "You don't know anything about that." He took a step closer to Danny. Danny snorted. "Oh yeah? Well, Abner Harrington from JTTF and Jack had a nice little chat about the whole desaster afterwards."  
"So? There's nothing – "  
"About how you remained in the line of sight of the sharpshooters for minutes."

"What are you –"

"On purpose"  
"There's nothing – "  
" Like you knew exactely where they were."

"I DID!"

For a moment there was silence. Danny and Martin stared at each other and finally Martin sank back into his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose in defeat. "What do you want, Danny?" Martin didn't care to look up, but he could hear Danny pulling up another office chair and sitting down right next to Martin. "I want to know everything." Now Martin did look up and came face to face with a smirking Danny, hands innocently folded on the desk. "Every gory detail." Martin frowned. He felt a lot better now that Danny wasn't on the warpath anymore – but he didn't like THIS situation either. "About me." "Yes." "You want to know everything about me. Right now." "Yes and yes. I am waiting."

"Like what?"  
Danny groaned. "I don't know. Let's start with that White Colar guy from Seattle who went after a crazy computer nerd alone or tackled a suspect like it was nothing." Martin scratched his head. "I told you, that was…"

"Sixth grade swim class, I know. And it's bullshit. I'm not Jack."

"Could have fooled me." Danny just gave him a glare, his fingers drumming away on the desk. "Okay, " he finally sighed, "let's start with your file. There's nothing unusual in there, nothing that indicates – "  
Martin's eyes narrowed. "You got your hands on my file! How did you – "  
"Would you STOP avoiding my questions!" Danny exploded, his paitence finally gone. "I want answers and I want them now. Okay, what about Seattle. Were you really there? White Collar?"

"Yes."

"So that part is true."

"Yes. Although it was more like one and a half year instead of two."

"Then why – how…" Now Danny was obviously at a loss. "Who are you?" he finally asked, suddenly sounding tired. Martin turned to look out of the window. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you." For a few agonizing minutes there was again silence. Finally, Danny stood up and turned to walk over to his desk. But then he stoppend and turned towards Martin again. He again had that look on his face. Like something had clicked inside his head.  
Oh shit, Martin thought. Here we go again.  
"What was it about Milo Derringer that set you off like that yesterday?" That caught Martin by surprise. "What?"

"Oh come on – you were out of your chair and gone like you saw a ghost. Next thing I know you're hiding at the shooting range shooting targets to shreds." Well damn. So Martin hadn't been as invisible as he had thought.

"Morning," a voice interrupted them and Vivian walked by, carrying more than a dozen file folders to her desk. "Whoa, Viv," Danny answered in surprise, following her. Martin sighed feeling a lot lighter now that he wasn't the center of Danny's attention any more. "Didn't Jack order us to 'sit on our hands'?" Danny leaned against Vivian's desk and crossed his arms. "Officially, this case is still ours," she shot back, "so I am going to do some research on our guy. Something doesn't add up. And I'm going to find out what." Now that got his attention. "Any ideas?" he urged her on, now all business. "Well, for example," she showed him a copy of the old timeline she had drawn out on a piece of paper. "Derringer moved into the appartment only one and a half weeks earlier – and his landlord already wants him to pay his rent? For what? Two weeks?"

"Mhm." Danny thought about that for a moment. Although it wasn't unusual for apartment owners in an area like that to keep an eye on the tenants, this was indeed a little far fetched. "So you think this was about something else?" Vivian nodded. "That, or it wasn't Arnold Stark who called us." Danny frowned. "But the identification of the recorded call was positive."

"Yes it was," Viv agreed. "But techs also told us that Stark sounded drunk."

"Yeah, Sam listened to it, she said he was stuttering, stumbling over his own words, losing his train of thought…"

"Right." She stared at the photograph of Derringer which was still attached to the white board. "Maybe Stark recognized our friend over there. Maybe he panicked." "Recognized him from where? Nobody seems to know anything. And why did Stark call the FBI? Why not the police? And why would he come up with this story about the rent?"

"Like I said," Viv sighed, "a lot of things don't add up." She turned back to the files and started reading again. A few minutes later Sam and Jack arrived – accompanied by an agent Danny and the others had never seen before. Vivian frowned, checking her wristwatch. "That was fast. He's two hours early".

"Here goes," Danny muttered when they all sat down at the big table in the center of their part of the office. Martin tried his best to stay calm. This could not be happening. He didn't really recognize this guy, but he had a gut feeling that things would go downhill from here on out. He held on to a piece of paper and a pen for dear life. If this guy recogized him, if he said anything… The agent who had arrived together with Jack and Sam was maybe in his mid - thirties and had red, a bit spikey hair that made him look younger than he was. His eyes darted from one person to the next, taking it all in in mere seconds. "Gabe Kincaid, ATF Denver," he introduced himself. "And before I start, there is something you should know." That surprised them, even Jack seemed to be taken aback. "I am not here to brief you so that you can take over the case."

"What?" Danny hissed, while Martin was busy finding out if he had seen this man before or not. But the face wasn't familiar - and that confused him. He had expected Simms, since he was the leader of team 9. Where was he? And who was this guy?  
Kincaid took a deep breath. "This is still an ATF case and that is not about to change. I was sent here to find out whatever you have on our suspect and to tell you to forget about it."

"Excuse me?" Jack growled and stood up. But the young man stayed calm. "I said, that is what I was sent here to do. This whole thing is just a gesture, a little show for the reports. Officially, I am not even allowed to tell you anything." His face darkened.

"Of corse this is about our nice inter – agency family feuds, it's like a tradition you don't break. About staying on your side of the fence. And we all know that it is a load of crap." Before anyone had time to comment on that, he opened a file folder and threw it onto the desk. "So I'll tell you what we know – but that is all I can do. And I'll do it only because I believe you deserve to know what is going on. This whole thing started about four years ago when Derringer was arrested by our team."

Martin's eyes narrowed. So this guy WAS a member of team 9. Mhm. That was strange. In spite of the little rivalry between teams nine and seven they'd never really hated each other – well, except Simms and Chris. So who was this? He didn't remember him. "He was sent to prison for seven years," Kincaid explained, "but he made a deal and testified in court, helping to bring down a weapons ring he had connections to. He would have been put into the Witness Procection Programm as soon as his prison sentence was over."

"So?" Danny interrupted him. "Why break out of prison then?" Kincaid nodded darkly. "This is… where things get a little more… personal."

He took his time to go on. "Obviously one or two of Derringer's old "friends" contacted him in prison." "He was threatened," Jack thought aloud. "And it scared him enough to risk running away instead of being protected by the authorities."

"Yes," Kincaid agreed darkly, "that was our first impression too. Until one of our team members was attacked."

The temperature in the office dropped to freezing. "When?" Jack asked hollowly.  
"Two days ago. He was attacked right in front of the apartment building he lives in. Obviously the shot was fired from a very short distance – it's a miracle he's still alive. They are still trying to stabilize him, but it's not looking good."

"This is insane," Martin whispered to himself. He remembered Josiah telling them about Derringer's file, about the man himself. According to what Josiah had found out, Derringer had never been the brightest bulp in the lamp, just a sneaky, unnerving bastard. It suited him to testify in court to save his own life. But everything else – breaking out of prison, trying to kill a Federal agent – all this was just crazy. Or not? Josiah had warned Chris back then that Derringer was unpredictable. But the whole bust … he remembered how they had made fun of team nine, how easyly Simms and his boys had pulled it through. It was just… I didn't sound right. "How do you know it was Derringer?" Jack asked, his face dark.  
"We don't," Kincaid sighed. "It was dark and the few witnesses we havedescribed a man in a coat, that's all. But Forensics found out that the… the bullets matched the weapons type we found on Derringer when we arrested him four years ago." Sam snorted, but caught herself immediately. "He seems to be a bit… careless," she tried to save the situation. "Well," Kincaid shot back sharply, "not careless enough to leave any witnesses of the attempted murder of Agent Carsson."

"Bailey Carsson!" Martin gasped before he could stop himself. He didn't even realise how everyone turned around and stared at him. All he could see and hear was that scene from four years ago. He was sitting on a rooftop, hearing Chris' voice over the radio.

_"You know, you don't really need to be up there. Simms has his own sharpshooter in position"  
"Yeah, right, I can see him. Looks like Simms sent Carsson up here. Sits on top of that stupid hardware store to your right. Won't hit a thing from that angle. I swear to god, that kid is as blind as a fucking mole."_

Shit. This was – this was insane. How… He blinked. Now he DID realise that all eyes were staring at him. Oh God, no. Not now. Not like this. "I… I'm sorry," he stuttered. Kincaid frowned. He didn't say anything, but his eyes never left Martin. "So this means this guy is no longer in New York, but in Denver?" Martin asked carefully. This situation was slowly getting out of hand. "If it was Derringer at all," Jack corrected him.  
"Or someone who wanted to make it look like it was Derringer," Sam added. Again silence settled over the conference table. "Wait a second," Danny spoke up again. "This guy broke out of prison, he even is a suspect in the attempted murder of a Federal agent – and nobody knows anything! Shouldn't there be at least half a dozen Federal agencies on the warpath already?"  
"Of corse," Kincaid agreed, "and they will be soon enough. But until there is proof that Derringer actually shot a Federal agent, this is an ATF only case. And the officials will do everything to keep it that way. Like I said, it's still our side of the picket fence. But to be honest, everybody knows that we have 48 hours at best before things will get ugly." He sighed deeply. "And that is the only reason I am here. To warn you. Because there WILL be questions. A lot of questions, and you will have to give answeres, too."

"About what?" Danny growled. "We don't know anything besides from what you told us."

"Maybe we do." Everyone turned to stare at Viv who had stayed at her desk since Kincaid arrived. She held several pieces of paper in her hand. "This is a list of the phone calls made from the apartment Derringer – Derning – used. For the first 4 days there's nothing interesting, most of those numbers are delivery services - seems like he ordered a lot of Pizza and Chinese food. But then, " she pointed at several numbers that were marked in red, "he started calling this number again and again. The calls only lasted a few seconds each, so either he hung up or whoever he was calling didn't want to talk and hung up on him." She grinned. Obviously the best part was yet to come. "The number belongs to someone here in New York. The last time he called the number was three days ago – it fits into the timeframe. If he was the one who attacked your colleague. " Silence followed, but this time it was a busy silence. The heads of the Missing Persons Team started working all at the same time, following a procedure they had used hundreds of times before. Jack turned to Kincaid.  
"Does Derringer have a family? A wife maybe, a girlfriend?" Kincaid was obviously a little taken aback by the countless questions, but he caught himself quickly. "No, I doubt a guy like him has any friends, he lives for his business. He's a greedy little bastard, you know? It's all about money. And he's not married. While we observed him we saw him with this one woman a few times – Darlene McEvoy, she lives in Denver." He sighed again. " They fought most of the time. If they ever had a relationship, it was long over, even back then. He didn't seem to be the type of man for a relationship anyway. We observed her for a while and even questioned her later. But she only stated what we had already guessed: that they had been in a relationship a long time ago. Aside from a few arguments, he never contacted her." He sighed once more. "But all that doesn't matter right now. Because this… is officially our team's last day on this case."

"WHAT!" Danny shouted, once again at a loss. This whole thing was turning into a nerve wracking desaster. "But you just told us that this was still an ATF case…"

"Yeah well, it is," Kincaid stated sourly. "Butlike I said, it's no longer ours. Another ATF team will deal with it from here on out."

"You are emotionally involved, " Vivian stated. For the first time, Kincaid grinned. "And from this moment on officially suspended." Then his face turned dark again. "You can imagine that we didn't take losing this case …lightly."

"So this is it? We are off the case too?" Sam wanted to know. Kincaid turned to her, his face a mask. "It looks like it, Agent Spade. The team that takes over the case might contact you if there are any more questions. If you'll excuse me now, I have to be back in Denver in a few ours to visit a friend in the hospital. I am sure you understand." With that, he turned and left the office.

"Whoa," Danny breathed. "Now what?"

Martin tried to calm down. Okay. Maybe this was it. Maybe it was over and everything would work out. Well, Danny knew now, but besides that, things could still…  
For a while, nothing happened. Jack was on the phone in his office, Viv was still reading through phone logsand Sam tried to recreate the Derringer – timeline on the white board. Then, Jack emerged from his office and stepped up to Viv. "Good work. Stay on it – see if you can find out who's number Derringer called." She grinned. "Already on it."

"Danny: Get in contact with the ATF and Denver - we have to know what exactrely happened when that ATF agent was shot." Danny snorted. "They'll be happy to help out."

"I don't care," Jack growled. "Sam: check the flights to Denver, if Derringer hasn't grown wings he has to appear somewhere." She smiled. "So we are not off the case?" He snorted. "The hell we are." Then he turned on his heel.

"Martin – my office. Now."

For a second Martin just stayed where he was, glued in place. Well damn.

------------------------------------------------------

It was way past eight when Chris finally arrived, his face a dark mask that made everyone flinch. "Conference room. Now." JD turned to Buck his eyes huge, but the other man only shrugged. This was not good. During the last hour they had tried to find out more about team nine's latest case – which had lead them to a ton of contradictionary information - but obviously something else was more important than that. Or Chris had beat them to it. A few minutes later they were gathered aroud the huge table in the conference room, waiting in silence. Usually, a morning in this ATF office was more a chaos than actually a coordinated routine, so this was… strange.

"First of all," Chris began, "Travis ordered us to put all research on the Blakeley case on hold for now." This was followed by shocked expressions and mumbled protest, since they had been working on the case for more than a month already. Josiah was the only one who stayed calm. "What happened?"

Chris took a deep breath, his face still dark and unreadable. "Bailey Carsson was attacked right in front of his house."

"What! " Buck burst out. "When! And why didn't anyone inform us?"  
"Two days ago. The shot was fired from a very close distance as it seems – they don't think he'll make it." "He was shot?" Nathan asked carefully. "By whom? And why?"

"Revenge?" JD guessed. "It wouldn't be the first time someone..."  
"They don't know," Chris interupted them, his voice deadly calm. "but it seems Milo Derringer escaped from prison a few days ago."

"Derringer?" Josiah thought aloud, already going through the file in his head. Once he had read a file, he hardly ever forgot something connected to it. "I heard about his deal. He would have been released and put into Witness Protection in… I am not sure, maybe a few more weeks."

"So why would he take the risk of running away instead of being protected by the authorities?" Ezra thought aloud, "This does not make sense." "And why would he attack Bailey?" Buck added. "As far as I know, they never even met, they send someone else undercover." "Even on the day they arrested him, Carsson was sitting on a roof top, remember?" JD gestured wildly. "Nobody could have seem him up there!"

_"Yeah, right, I can see him. Looks like Simms sent Carsson up here. Sits on top of that stupid hardware store to your right. Won't hit a thing from that angle. I swear to god, that kid is as blind as a fucking mole."_

"…ris? Chris!" Chris blinked. For a moment he had been back out there in the dark and the cold, hiding behind a stupid, parked car, listening to a friend's voice. Damn. Concentrate. "I can't answer your questions," he said, his voice hoarse. "But the point is: Travis suspended team nine after Simms lost it and threw a fit when he heard he was off the case. And although that's understandable under the circumstances, I agree with Travis here. So…" "So they asked you to take over the case?" Buck shot his oldest friend a knowing glance. "Yes," was the simple answer. "Whoa, hold it," JD almost jumped out of his chair. "A federal agent was attacked in the open – and this is still an ATF case? How? I mean what is this all about! Derringer is running around free and Bailey was attacked – and nobody knows anything!"

"All information about this case and everything connected to it is classified for now," Chris growled, glaring at JD – who unterstood and sat back down in silence. "But I don't know for how long," Chris went on. "Travis is trying his best to cover it up, but there are already other agencies involved as it seems. They sent Gabe to deal with that. As soon as he returns, he'll be off the case, too."

"So that's why Gabe's out of town," Buck thought aloud. "Yes." Chris put six brown manila folders onto the desk. "As I said, Travis asked us to take over here. Nothing's decided yet, but I want you to read through these anayway, get up to date."

"What will you do?" Josiah asked carefully. They all were aware of the… memories this case could and would bring back. But if Chris caught the tone in Josiah's voice he didn't react on it. "I'll have another talk with Travis – he's still a little rattled after Simm's little scene. Expecially since Simms is unreachable since he's been suspended."

-------------------------------------------------------------

For long moments, there was icy silence in Jack's office.

"Sit down." Martin was still in a state of shock and didn't react immediately.

"I said SIT DOWN"  
Martin flinched and finally sat down in the chair in front of Jack's desk. The cold inside him was back. Danny he could have handled, maybe even fooled – but not Jack. Whatever Jack knew, it would end in a desaster – not only for Martin. Too much was on the line here. He felt strangely reminded of the day he had been in the exact same possition, telling Jack the truth about Franco Reyes' death. And he could only hope that this conversation wouldn't end as bad as the one back then had.

"Jack, I…"

"What was that all about?" Jack interrupted him immediately, his voice dangorously calm.  
"What?"

"You know exactely what I am talking about," Jack growled. "What do you know about that ATF agent – Bailey Carsson? You knew his name. Nobody ever mentioned him before."

Oh damn. Think, THINK! Something…

"That… was a misunderstanding, I just.."

"The HELL it was!" Okay. So that didn't work. New tactic.  
"I am sorry if this has caused you any trouble Jack. It was just… I am sorry. It won't happen again." Jack's eyes narrowed even more – and Martin knew that he was in trouble. Even more so than he had thought.

"Don't do that," Jack shot back, his voice sounding hollow. "Just don't. It won't work. And I think we deserve more than that."

Martin hung his head in defeat. He had tried so hard. They could not know about this, about him and his past. Careers depended on that. On him. "I just… I can't. Tell you, I mean." He heard Jack sigh.

"Martin, I am not stupid. I knew about the holes and inaccurancies in your file from day one. Back then I thought this was your father's doing." When Martin snorted, Jack had to grin.

"You have to agree that that wasn't too far fetched. Anyway, since your recommendations were excellent, I thought to hell with it." There was another moment of silence.

"But now…" He sighed. "You are aware that most of the training sessions down at the shooting range are recorded for security reasons?" Well fck.  
"No," Martin cringed. "I mean it's understandable, but I didn't…." …think if that, he added mentally.He could kill himself. How could he have been so stupid! Of corse there had to be security cameras around. He desperately begged for a hole in the ground to open up and swallow him right now. Jack took a deep breath. Uh-oh. Martin knew this strained look on Jack's face. This could only mean one thing – and Martin desperately hoped he was wrong.

"Your father and I had a nice little chat on the phone a few minutes ago."

Could it get any worse?  
Jack shot Martin a sharp glance. "He ordered me to take you off the case "  
Martin swallowed. The house of cards finally fell and shattered.  
"What… what did you say?" Jack snorted. Did his agents really not know him better by now?

"I said "What case?" because officially, all Kincaid told us was to mind our own business and forget about Derringer. And since we are good agents, we did just that."

"What?" Okay, cool FBI agent or not, for a moment Martin forgot to hide how confused he was. "What.. what did he say?"

Jack huffed. "What do you think? He threatened to come down here in person if we didn't – what did Kincaid call it? I really liked that."

"Stay on our side of the picket fence," Martin helped out before he knew what he was doing. Jack nodded, a knowing look in his eyes.  
"You know Bailey Carsson, don't you?" But before Martin could answer that, Vivian knocked on the door and asked them to follow her.

"Jack, you should take a look at this," she explained, pointing at the new timeline, which held a lot more detail now. "We added the phonecalls to the timeline. The number belongs to a David Foley, 45, a librarian. He lives here in New York."

Jack frowned. "Who the hell is that? A contact of Derringer's? Someone who's supposed to help him? A poker buddy? WHAT!" Vivian and Sam exchanged a knowing glance. "We had no idea either," Sam stepped forward, "until we made a background check and…" "You will never guess who our librarian was married to for almost ten years." Vivian grinned.  
Jack stopped in mid – motion. "Darlene McEvoy."

"Bingo," Viv chimed in. "They divorced about 4 years ago, he moved back to New York where his family lives." Martin, who had slowly reentered the open office, frowned. "But this doesn't make sense," he muttered. "I mean – Derringer is an idiot, but why should he call the ex – husband of an ex – lover?" Again everybody turned around and stared at him. He cringed. Way to go.  
"They have any children?" Jack interrupted the silence, trying to ease the situation. "Yes," Sam answered, still eyeing Martin suspiciously. "Marissa, she's four years old – they divorced a few weeks after she was born."

Danny frowned. "Wow, our librarian seems to be a really nice guy."

"There's more, " Sam interrupted him, "when they got married Darlene McEvoy already had a daughter, Eve, who was 4 years old back then, so she should be around 18 now. She lives with her mother in Denver but visits Foley regularly." Jack thought for a moment.

"Mhm. It might be far fetched, but maybe she is the connection we are looking for." He turned to Sam.

"What about the flights?"  
"Working on it."

---------------------------------------

A federal building, Denver, USA. The forteenth floor. The large, open office of ATF's Team Seven was not really bursting with activity. Just a few hours before a carefully planned bust had worked out perfectly and a long, draining case had finally come to a close. Well, not really – the paperwork still had to be done. And after a lot of complaining, the members of the team had finally settled down to get it over with. JD turned around in his chair, sighing. "Man, this is boring – why can't we get the day off again? We were out there all night!" "Because boss man said so, kiddo," Buck answered from his desk, not even bothering to turn away from his computer. JD snorted.  
"Ah, come on, man. Doesn't look like no report to me what I can see from here. You chatting again?" Buck visibly flinched. "Shhhh!" he hissed. "No need to wake up sleeping dogs, if ya get what I mean." Now it was Ezra's turn to snort. "I think it is a little late for that, Mr. Wilmington. Not only can we hear every word that is spoken in this office, but also the screaming colors of that website you are using are not really easy to overlook." "Yes, brother," Josiah piped in. "If you tried to keep this a secret, you are not really good at it. Is it at least an interesting conversation?" "Interesting all right!" Buck shot back, grinning widely. "There is this girl on and she just told me that she"  
"…is tall, blond and has blue eyes, is a nurse and likes tall men with dark hair yadda yadda yawn?" JD interrupted him, looking over Buck's shoulder. "Sorry to break it to you, pard – but that's Nathan you chatting with"  
Buck's jaw litteraly hit the floor – and laughter errupted from the other end of the open office.

"YOU!" Buck exploded, stalking over to Nathan's desk. He was met by a look of pure innocence.

"What?" Nathan asked, barely keeping a straight face. Buck crossed his arms.

"I would have expected that from JD," he sputtered, "or even from Junior - but YOU!"

Now Nathan laughed again. "You know what I think about this chat room boogaboo. Told you that you can never be sure who you are talking to. And I just proved that I was right." A broad grin spread on his face and he held out his hand. "That be ten bugs for me, Mister." "What!" Buck barked, backing away.

"Oh, if I recall this right, you told us that you would ALWAYS know if someone in a chatroom fooled around with you, in lack of better words," Ezra announced sweetly. "Wasn't that just last week?"

"That's right," Josiah added. "You bet 10 bugs that you would know."

"Got you on that one, Buck," JD shouted and started laughing.  
Nathan wiggled the fingers of his outstretched hand.

"I am waiting." "

But I-" Buck stuttered, then he sighed. Finally, he gave Nathan the money and marched back to his desk, all the while muttering under his breath. "Hey, everyone look at that!" JD suddenly shouted while staring at his computer screen. "They really put this up!"

Nathan, Ezra and Josiah gathered around JD's desk, while Buck refused to pay attention.

"What is it?" Nathan wanted to know, the money still in his hand.

"The Derringer bust," JD answered while trying to supress his laughter. "Dean and the others put it on the intern network news page. Looks like there are more people around here who hate Simm's guts."

Now Buck couldn't stand it any more and his curiousity took the better of him.

"What's it say?" he asked, trying to move Josiah out of the way.  
"Oh, a lot," Ezra pointed out, grinning ."They are really going into detail here. It mentions a strange detonation right after Mr. Derringer was handcuffed. According to this article, the detonation was followed by some devastating smell, resulting in almost all members of team 9 emptying their stomachs on themselves."

Josiah, Nathan and JD roared with laughter and Buck beamed with pride.  
"Oh, oh and it get's better!" JD managed to get out between breaths. "When the clean up crew showed up, they not only found team 9 with puke all over their clothes, but also Simms with his pants at his ankles"  
"…and over all there was the faint sound of country music," Josiah finished the sentence – before he and the rest of the team again errupted with laughter.

JD blinked, trying to clear his head. Man, that had been long ago. It felt like a lifetime. So much had changed since then. After their desperate search for a friend – which had lasted over a year and was was still on – they'd tried to find their way back into their everyday lives and their job. By now they had found their routine again… but the lightheartedness was gone. It somehow had dissappeared together with… well. Right now ATF team seven was scattered around their huge open office, reading through the Derringer file. JD sighed again, propping his feet up on his desk. "What?" Buck asked, looking up from his file. "I don't know," JD murmured, "something just doesn't sit right. I mean – what exactely are we doing here? Aside from reading through a file that is four years old? We don't even know yet if we are really taking over this case. Chris hasn't said anything since he's returned from Travis' office." "Mr. Dunne is right," Ezra agreed. "And even if we decide to take over this case, would that really be wise? As soon as it is announced that a Federal agent was the victim of an attempted assassination, we – and I mean we as in the whole team – will have to answer to the FBI – or worse." Buck couldn' t hide a grin. "And of corse you wouldn't like that, huh Ez?" Ezra gave him a disgruntled look. "No, Mr. Wilmington, I would most certainly not like that. And you shouldn't like this either, because inter – agency cooperation has never lead to any good." "He's got a point there," Nathan agreed. "Those Fibbies are worse than whiny children on the playground." "Yeah," JD agreed with enthusiasm. "They're like those guys in school who act like they know everything." "So you think whe should not take over the case" Josiah spoke up, turning to Ezra. "I never said that," Ezra slowly shook his head. "I just thought it would be a good idea to remind you that we are not just trying to arrest a weapons dealer here." "Right," Nathan agreed. "As soon as word get's out that a Federal agent was shot and that Derringer is a possible suspect…" "… hell will break lose and a witchhunt will begin," Josiah nodded deep in thought. "And we will be right there in the middle of it." "But…" JD thought aloud, swallowing hard. "It's not just about that, right? I mean… you know what I mean. Right?" "Right," Buck agreed darkly and stood up, heading for Chris' office. Of corse he felt the four pairs of eyes following him.

"Don't you ever knock?" Buck surely got the hint – but he chose to ignore it. He stepped into Chris' office and closed the door. Team seven's leader was staring out of the window, his back to Buck. A few minutes of silence ticked by. Buck crossed his arms in front of his chest and waited. They had played this game before. Usually, Buck had left after a few minutes, not able to bear the icy silence. But this time it was different. This time he would talk to Chris – even if he had to wait until morning. Chris sighed inpatiently and finally looked at his oldest friend.  
"What?" he asked coldly.  
Buck took a deep breath. "You might wanna sit down."

Chris snorted and directed his infamous Larabee glare at Buck. Most people were intimidated by that, even the members of team 7. But not Buck. Never Buck. Finally, Chris sat down behind his desk and waited again. No questions, no remarks, nothing. Well, Chris had never been a man of many words, but this silence reminded Buck too much of the time right after Sarah and Adam had… he shuddered and tried to chase those thoughts away. Bad timing.

"I was just wonderin'" Buck scratched his head. "What am I supposed to tell the others? Are we taking over the case or not? I mean, we've been reading through the file anyway and…"

"Not now."

"Then when? We are wasting time."

"I'll let you know soon enough."

Buck slowly shook his head . Well, now was as good a day as any other.

"This isn't really about Derringer or Simms or Travis. And we both know that"  
If Chris reacted on it, Buck couldn't really see. Buck cursed mentally. It was about time. Chris just crossed his arms.  
"I am not going to talk about that now."

"Now that's no surprise," Back growled back, "since you have avoided talking about it for almost THREE YEARS! Ever since we had to stop - " "Like I said, I am NOT going to discuss this with you – "  
"I don't want you to DISCUSS it!" Buck shouted back. "I just want you to accept it. He's not here. He's gone. And it's not your FAULT"  
Chris was out of his chair in a second, leaning over his desk, his face only inches away from Buck's.

"Don't YOU tell me what I gotta do," he growled, his eyes cold. "I decide what happens in this office. So I WANT you to just turn around and close the door behind you or I swear to god I will pull rank on you and BOOT you out"  
Four yeasr ago, Buck would have been shocked by an outburst like this. Four years ago, Chris had been a different man. But now, after all that had happened he had almost expected a reaction like this. So he just stood where he was, waiting. Willing to take whatever his oldest friend would dish out. For Chris' sake. Instead of leaving the office, he pulled up the chair and sat down in front of Chris' desk. Chris was still standing there like a caged tiger, staring at Buck in disbelief. "You feelin' better now?" Buck asked calmly. After another minute of icy silence, Chris blinked. Slowly he sat back down. "Yeah," he sighed. Buck smiled. "Good. So, what's the plan?" Chris took a deep breath. He was really feeling better now – like part of a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. And once again he was thankful that the members of his team were more than just that – they were friends. From one moment to the next they were all business again – and that was an important part of their friendship: whatever happened, they never allowed it to get in the way of their job.

Chis shuffled through the file. "Okay, I'll go through the witness reports from the day Carsson was shot, we have to find out what exactely happened there. First one on the scene was a officer of the DPD, so I'll start there. I want Ezra to contact whoever was team nine's undercover agent in the case, maybe he can find something there. Josiah will have to update Derringer's profile, I want to know if he'd really be able to kill a Federal agent. Tell JD to check why Gabe was sent out of town and where – and who he has talked to. If the FBI is already involved I want to know who it is we'll have to deal with. And… " he frowned. "Simms ordered to question a woman named Darlene McEvoy just a few days before Derringer was arrested. I want you and Nathan to find out why. Question her again if you have to."

"Got it."

-----------------------------------------------------

Martin fidgeted. Of corse he felt the curious looks of the others. Vivian – well, she'd probably figured it out months ago. It was close to impossible to hide everything from her. She had the uncanny instinct to feel more than know when something was not how it should be. And while Sam kept on staring at him suspiciously since he'd blurted out what an idiot Derringer was, a constant, triumphant grin seemed to be glued to Danny's face, like he'd found the answer to one of the huge questions in life. Well, no surprise, since Vivian and Sam were still curious, Danny KNEW that Martin was hiding something. And that wasn't good to begin with. And although Martin was relieved that Danny wasn't angry at him any more, THIS was not good either. If Danny found out the whole truth, Martin would most likely never live it down. When Sam again turned around in her chair to stare at him, it was enough. He stood up and stepped out onto the balcony.  
Fresh air. Nothing but the faint street noise below. God, he needed a break. And of corse his cell phone had to ring right then and there. He didn't bother to check the number. "Fitzgerald."

"You bastard!"

He flinched and held the cell phone at arms length for a moment. He took his time to hold it to his ear again, hoping the volume in her voice had lessend a but.

"Maddie! Why are you calling me on my work cell - "

"You are so DEAD!" No such luck. "

Mad! Would you stop screaming into the phone like that, I am not deaf! What happened?"

"Dad happened, you idiot! I will kill you!"

Okay, enough was enough. He knew Maddie well enough to know that her insults were not meant the way they sounded, but this was a bit too much.

"I said stop screaming! Are you still at my apartment!"

"Of corse I am!" He could hear her labored breathing through the phone – damn, she was angry. "

How do you think Dad got a hold of me!" Oh god.

"He… he's there!"

"No, but he called! And I went and answered the phone because I thought it was YOU! Why the HELL is there no caller ID on your stupid phone!"  
Okay, he had to come up with something quickly to prevent this situation from getting completely out of hand. While he had never really found the strength to face his father, his sister was a league of her own. Somewhere during those years alone with their parents she had found out that the easiest way to make Victor Fitzgerald angry was to not take him seriously. So whenever they met, she refused to listen to him and whenever that wouldn't work, she'd just leave and somehow try to stay under his radar. He could bet that she had managed to avoid him since Christmas – and that was something. Well, her luck had to run out eventually.  
"Okay, calm down. What did he want?"

"Oh, let me see," she snarled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "He wanted to know if I liked my new job, how the weather was in LA – of corse he wanted to talk to YOU! Imagine his surprise when I answered the phone!"

"Did he say why he wanted to talk to me?" he interrupted her carefully. It was never a good idea to do that when she was angry. For a moment there was silence on the other end of the line.

"No," she finally answered, most of her anger gone. "But he really sounded serious. What happened? How did that meeting go? Did they send someone you know?"

"No," he answered and finally felt some of the tension leave his body. "I don't know the agent they sent. But that doesn't matter any more, since their team is off the case anyway and another team will take over."

"Oh good. So when will you be home?" Uh-oh. This wasn't good. Of corse she was planning her revenge on him.

"I don't know," he answered quickly, "you know how it is."

"I will get you for this, you know."

"I know. How bad?" "He made me promise to visit them on my birthday! This is all your fault!"

"Ouch. I am sorry."

"Oh yeah, you're all heart! But…" He heard her sigh. "Martin, listen. Whatever it is he's up to – it's bad. I've never heard him talk like this since… you know."

Shit. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think. But this day had been crazy enough already and a million things were spinning around in his head.

"I.. thank you for calling. I can't deal with this right now, I… thank you. For back then. And for… you kow.. now."

"Yeah yeah. Just remember you owe me. Big time."

"Martin?" Danny opened the glass door and stepped out onto the balcony..

"Hey, is that Danny!" Maddie practically sqee -ed into the phone, her mood changing again. "Put him on!"

Martin groaned. He really wasn't up to dealing with both of them at the same time.

"Good bye, Maddie"  
"Spoilsport. Bye." With that, the line went dead.  
Danny's face lit up. "Maddie? She's in town? Cool!"  
Martin rolled his eyes. "Back off"  
"Now why should I do that? She's cute."  
"She's my sister, Taylor."  
"She's still cute."

- -

_"You say I've been a stranger for too long -_

_I didn't even notice I was gone."_

_- - _

"Okay," Vivian announced to get their attention. "Techs just got back to me – it wasn't David Foley who hung up when Derringer called – it was Derringer himself."

"So maybe he was expecting somebody else to answer the phone than the person who actually did," Danny thought.

"That's why he tried so often."

Jack nodded. "But if it wasn't Foley he wanted to talk to, then who – "

"It's Eve," Sam interrupted him from her desk, hanging up the phone. "I checked the flights between Denver and New York - and there was no flight booked for our friend Derringer - or Derning. He could have still used a fake identity, I'm checking that. BUT Eve McEvoy booked a flight from Denver to New York for eight thirty on Wednesday. She checked in, got on the pane, checked out, but never showed up to pick up her luggage. It's still there."

Jack's face darkened. "That was almost a week ago." He straightened. "Sam, Viv – I want you to visit David Foley and find out if he knows anything. I'll try to get a hold of Darlene McEvoy. If her daughter is missing, we got ourselves a whole new case. Danny, Martin: I want you to be ready to fly down to Denver – just in case." Danny's grin got even wider – if that was possible. Of corse he had long found out that whatever it was Martin was hiding – it had to do with the ATF in Denver. So huh. This would get interesting.

-------------------------------

Two ours later Vivian and Samantha knocked on the door to David Foley's apartment. They had already gone through Eve McEvoy's luggage at the airport, but a side from a few books and enough fresh clothes for at least a week, there had been nothing to give them any hints where she was headed or why. The apartment building looked clean and the neighbours were friendly. It was quiet – maybe a little too quiet. The man who shyly answered the door a few seconds later was in his mid – fourties, had brown, a bit curly hear and was wearing fragile looking, silver glasses. He eyed them suspiciously.  
"Yes?"

"Mr. Foley?" Vivian made a step forward. "I am Special Agent Johnson and this is Special Agent Spade, we are with the FBI." The man's eyes narrowed, their IDs didn't seem to impress him.

"What… what do you want?"

"Mr. Foley," Sam spoke up carefully. "We would like to talk to you about Eve McEvoy. Is she here?" Foley's eyes turned huge.

"E- Evie!" he stuttered, now clearly in panic. "No, she's not – why should she be – is she alright!"

"Right now we don't know" Vivian tried again, "that's why we are here. Could you please let us in so that we can ask you a few questions?"

"Of corse!" He opened the door quickly obviouisly the mention of the girl's name had a strong effect on him. The apartment was small and stuffed with too many things. Bookshelves covered nearly every wall, even most of the windows were hidden by bookshelves. The small living room consisted of nothing more than a brown couch, a TV set and even more bookshelves. Cartons of leftover takeout were piled up on the snall desk next to the couch. He sat down on the couch, his hands visibily shaking.

"Please," he asked, his voice hoarse, "tell me, is Evie all right?"

"Like I said, we don't know," Vivian answered, sitting down next to him, but keeping her distance. "She booked a flight for Wednesday, but…" "Why would she do that?" Foley interrupted her, now clearly confused. "She told me she'd visit on the sixth, that's a month from now!" Then the rest of what Vivian had said seemed to sink in.  
"Wednesday!" He shot up from the couch. "But that was last week, where is she! And why…" While Sam went for the bathroom, Vivian tried to calm the man down. "We don't know, Mr. Foley. She was on that flight, but never picked up her luggage once she was here in New York. Please, try to concentrate. Is there some other place or person she would go to aside from you?"

"No, of corse not! I mean I'm not her father – not her real father – but…"

A few minutes later they were back in the car and on their way to the office. Vivian sighed and opened her cell phone to call Jack.  
"Anything new?" "You could say that," Vivian said, suddenly feeling very tired. "We talked to Foley and according to him Eve McEvoy never told him she was on her way to New York."

"Damn. What else?"

"He was totally devastated when we mentioned that she's most likely missing – like his whole world is turning around her. Although she only visitis him once, maybe twice a year. He told us that although he was married to Darlene McEvoy, he never adopted Eve. And now that she's eighteen, she'll probably want to live her own life – without him."

"So you think she never planned to visit him when she came to New York," Jack urged her on.  
"Probalby", Vivian Took a deep breath. "He keeps on calling her "Evie", like she's still a small child. And Jack? Sam found anti- depressants in his bathroom. The hard stuff."

She heard Jack sigh. "Well, that's not enough to arrest him. We haven't been able to get in contact with Darlene McEvoy yet, so we'll be flying down there to get some information. You two will be alright?" Vivian smirked and lowered her cellphone. "He wants to know if we'll be okay while the boys play cowboy in Denver." For the first time in hours Sam laughed. "Tell him we are big girls.

--------------------------------

For a while, Martin just stared out of the window. So this was it. They were going to fly down to Denver to talk to Darlene McEvoy and, if they had to, to get information from the ATF team that was now assigned to the Derringer case. He sighed. This was the worst case scenario. Even while thinking about it, he had never come up with something like this. Somewhere during this mess his mind had become numb, but at the same time he had to use every ounce of self control he had to stop himself from laughing hysterically. After all this time, after all that had happened, it had come to this. And it wasn't even his doing! It was crazy. Yes. Not far away, Danny sat at his desk, once again Keeping an eye on Martin. This would indeed be interesting, he thought to himself. He was not sure about the others, but to him it was obvious now that Martin was hiding a lot of things. Not only the little incidend on the shooting range had given that away. There were all those tiny details that made a lot more sense now. In that moment, Martin's cell phone rang and Danny watched with a frown how Martin's face darkened when he answered the call.

"Father."

Oh shit. Danny cringed. This was not good, this was never good. The last time he'd heard from Victor Fitzgerald Jack had almost lost his job and the last time he'd actually SEEN the AD Martin had warned him with a growled "Hold on to your head" - and that hadn't been an exageration. The man demanded and got attention wherever he appeared. He always seemed to be surrounded by an icy cloud of authority that couldn't be ignored. And it was very well known that he never made empty threats. So when it came to Victor Fitzgerald, it was best to be invisible. Well, as far as that was possible. Martin stepped back out onto the balcony, but didn't notice that the glass door didn't really close behind him.  
"Yes, I know why you are calling. Why you called Jack this morning, too," Danny could now hear Martin's voice answer to what was said on the phone and watched how Martin turned his back to the rest of the office, trying to hide whatever was going on.  
"Yes, I remember that. No, we agreed on nothing, we never even discussed it."

There was another pause and Danny was starting to get worried. To describe Martin's relationship with his father as strained was the unterstatement of the century. And to Danny it was still not clear if Martin actuallly wanted his father to stay out of his life or if he still tried to please him by living up to his expectations. Mhm. Maybe it was a bit of both.  
He could hear Martin snort.

"Hell, you can hardly call it a decision I made when you had to threaten.." At this, Danny straightened. Not good. "

MY best interest," Martin stated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "No. This is about you, like it's always been about you. You are only interested in me and my life when whatever I do could somehow reflect badly on you." Another moment of silence followed and even with his back turned to the office, Danny could see Martin tense.  
"Yes, I am going." Martin hissed, "It's related to a case. NO! I told you before, I want you to stay out of.."

For a moment, Danny expected to finally hear "my life", but instead, Martin sighed in defeat.

"Yes, I know. There's no need to remind me. I don't have time to talk to you right now. No. Bye." After the end of the phonecall, Martin stayed out on the balcony for a second and Danny could have sworn to hear Martin say something like "fighting windmills" before turning around and stepping back into the office.

------------------------------------------

Vin Tanner squinted into the red light of the setting sun. Damn, he was tired. They'd been working on these cases for months and they were all drained. Even moreso after the desaster only a few days ago. The bust had not really gone as planned and all they could arrest Pete Crane for was the possession of illegal firearms, not dealing with them. The man had been screaming for his lawyer for the last two days and would most likely be free in no time. Vin took another sip of his coffee and tried to get rid of the cold in his bones. He had thought staying on the roof and getting some fresh air would help with that, but no such luck. The atmosphere in the team was not the best, of corse not. Now everything depended on the second bust, they had to get Scarlini, Crane's partner. Trying to cover up that Crane had been arrested had been the hardest part. But they had made it, the deal was still going down tomorrow. Right, he reminded himself. Still work to do. He sighed and left the roof.  
Halfway down the stairwell to the open-plan offices of team seven, Vin's cell phone rang. He stopped in his tracks, frowning. Something felt odd. Chris or the others would not call him since they knew where he was. Except for JD maybe, since he loved his cell phone. But they had better things to do now, so why should JD call him? No, it had to be something else. Checking his cell, Vin found that there was no number on the display. His frown deepened. This was not good. He reluctandly answered the phone – and visibly bleached.  
"Mad!"

Half an hour later he found himself sitting on a chair inside the equipment locker. His usually smooth movements were jerky, unfocused. The room was small, almost cramped with equipment. Vin took a good look at the array of side arms and rifles laid out on the metal desk in front of him. Usually, he loved this kind of work. Usually, he didn't even have to think while doing it because usually, he was able to strip down, clean and check each and every single one of these weapons with his eyes closed. He knew that this was considered the "dirty work", no one really wanted to be the one to check on the equipment, but he actually LIKED it. He liked the quietness of the room, working on the weapons, concentrating on something like this. Something useful. He was no fool. He knew why his team members let him do it, why he was often ordered to do this instead of reading through files or waving through paperwork. But he didn't care. This was something he was good at. Usually. But today… his eyes fell on his cell phone on the desk, next to the weapons. Damn.  
Why now!  
Why ever?  
Of corse he had always known that this day would come eventually. That it was inevitable. But – why? Would he ever be free of all this? He loved his work with team 7, hell, that crazy bunch was his family! And now… he didn't even dare to think of leaving. No. Not again. Not after all he had been through. It was just plain unfair. He hated himself. Hated himself for answering to phone. He knew exactely what this would mean for him. For the team. It was not right. Not FAIR. And to make it worse…  
It scared the shit out of him. Because it meant that his time here was over. That it would start all over again. He had hoped that it would never come to this, but that had been naïve. He knew that he had to act now, while he still could.  
And he was sitting here! There were so many things to do, he had to get away from here! He couldn't stay, not after her call! He was wasting precious time – but no. He had to prepare for the bust tomorrow, he could not leave before that. He didn't realize how bad his hands were shaking until a magazine dropped out of his hand. He sighed and covered his eyes with his hands. Shit. Shit shit shit! He had to do something, now!

But before he had the chance to think about this any more, the door to the equipment locker was opened. For a moment, they just stared at each other. Vin didn't get up from his chair. Chris didn't leave his place leaning in the doorframe with his arms crossed in front of his chest.  
Finally, Chris sighed.  
"Mind clueing me in?" Vin just huffed and shook his head.  
-Nothing, cowboy-  
Chris snorted.  
-Liar-  
Vin immediately tensed and his whole body language screamed defense. Everyone else would have gotten the message to back off. And of corse, Chris saw it too. But he was not everyone else. And he sure as hell wouldn't back off. They glared at each other for minutes without saying a word, but silent messages where flying back and forth between them. Finally Chris shook his had in exasperation.  
"Don't give me that "it's nothing" line, because I ain't buyin it. Do you have any idea what time it is? I sent the others home long ago. We have a job to do tomorrow, remember? And you are sitting in here cleaning weapons for four hours straight and try to tell me nothing is wrong"  
"I told you, it's nothing," Vin answered tensly, still not leaving the cramped little room. Chris nodded darkly. "Fine. You want it that way? There." He stepped into the room and closed the door. Now, with both men in the small room, "cramped" didn't even come close to covering it. Vin flinched again – and for a second, Chris felt guilty for playing dirty. He knew that Vin didn't like cramped places and always prefered open space – but Chris had the nagging feeling that this was important and worth the risk. Vin glared at him angrily.  
-You bastard-  
Chris' eyes narrowed.  
-Wasn't my idea to come here. Now spill it.-  
"There's nothing to say. I'll go home in a minute."

Chris frowned – he just KNEW that something was wrong, though he had no idea what it could be. He felt it – like he usually felt it when something was wrong with Vin. And this time… it was serious. He had no idea why he knew. He just did. And it scared him. But what could it be? While they had been working on the two cases they had not really had time for anything else. And he'd seen Vin only a few hours ago, asking him to check on the equipment. Vin had seemed okay then. So what… His frown deepened. On the small desk, between the weapons and some dirty rags was Vin's cell phone. If it had been any other member of his team, Chris wouldn't have noticed – but Vin practically loathed his cell phone and only used it when it was absolutely necessary. So why was it lying there, easy to reach and check on?

"Somebody call you?" he asked carefully, knowing very well that he was walking on thin ice.

Vin cursed himself mentally – the stupid cell phone! No, he couldn't tell Chris, couldn't make things worse than they already were. But what could he do? They knew each other too well. There was no way of lying to Chris about this. Ha! And how should he explain this? How should he explain that everyone on the time would most likely lose their job - or worse - if he didn't... No. He couldn't tell him, it was too late for that. And there was no other way to get out of this. No. There WAS a way. He shivered. He hated himself for doing this, hated the whole situation and the one man who had caused it and made him do this. But there was no other way. I'm sorry, Cowboy.  
Vin straightened and blinked, blocking every possibilty for Chris to read in his friends eyes like he usually did. On purpose. And Chris saw that, too. The cold Chris had felt earlier was slowly clawing into his heart. Something terrible was going on here. He couldn't name it, nor point it out – but he felt it. It was like someone or something was tearing his soul apart. He made one last attempt to reach Vin, looked into his friends eyes like he had done so many times in the past.

- ... Cowboy...? -

Vin just stared back at him. The usually expressive eyes were empty. Grey. Not blue. And they seemed to stare right through him.  
"I should better be goin," Vin stated, his voice sounding eerily calm.

One day later, their bust ended in a desaster – And for Vin Tanner it ended with the screaming sound of metal scraping over pavement and his world being swallowed by darkness.

-----------------------------------------------

Martin sat upright in his seat when something – somebody – nudged his shoulder. He blinked heavily, trying to get rid of the last remnants of that dream. Danny watched him suspiciously.

"We're almost there." Almost there. Right. The plane. To Denver. Martin took a deep breath and tried to hide how much all this effected him. At the same time he felt stupid. Why should he hide it? Jack knew that a lot of things were missing in his file and Danny – well, he was sure Danny knew ways to somehow find out more about him. So they were both aware that not everything was as it seemed. And Maddie? Well, he had called her from the airport in New York, telling her what was going on and that he wouldn't be home for at least two days. Well, her reaction had been … very Maddie.  
"You're flying down there. Right now. With Danny and that other guy. Your boss."

"Jack. Yes."

"This is… this is great!" The rest of her sentense had been lost in hysterical laughter. He'd hung up after listening to her laughing for almost a minute. And he was glad that Danny and Jack were talking about the case now and didn't pay attention to him because god, even stepping out of the plane and seeing the Airport was like coming home. Everything was familiar, so much so it was almost too much. He took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on following the other two.

-------------------------------------------

"Okay, there's not much," Nathan stated, closing a file folder. "This says that they observed Darlene McEvoy for a while to find out what her connection to our friend Derringer was. They even brought her in for questioning a few days before he was arrested, but couldn't get enough on her to keep her here. Obviously she'd been in a relationship with him some time ago, but it was long over."

"Right," Buck agreed, "she stated that he visited her a few times to go on a trip down memory lane, but she refused. Other than that, he didn't tell her anything, she had no idea why they were even on him."

"That's really not much," JD thought aloud, gulping down his coke. "And it doesn't get much better here. Chris asked me to check why Gabe was sent out of town and obviously an FBI team of Missing Persons in New York was called because some guy called Derning – Derringer, whatever – was missing, so Gabe was sent there to tell them to mind their own business and forget about the case."

Nathan groaned. "JD, could you please slow down a little. And at least BREATH between sentenses. Last thing we need is for you to turn all blue and fall out of your chair."

JD just blinked. "Well, gramatically speaking, that was only one sentense." Before he could react, Buck snatched his coke can away.

"Sorry, out of caffeine for today." JD shrugged, rummaged through one of his desk drawers and finally found an energy drink.  
"Anyways, what I wanted to say before I was interrupted is that officially, nobody knows anything aside from that one FBI team so there is no need to worry – "  
"Okay, okay," Buck interrupted him again and rose from his chair. " So Derringer's in New York. We'll have a little chat with Darlene McEvoy, you tell Chris that Derringer was seen in New York and then you stay on… whatever it is you are doing." With that, Nathan and Buck left the office.  
"Okay," JD mumbled to himself, turning back to his computer. "So let's see what we have here. Missing Persons. Mhm." He clicked his way through a bunch of information. And never felt the energy drink slip out of his hands.  
"Holy shit!"

--------------------------------------

In the car, Maritn tried to force himself not to look out of the window. How often had he been here before, driving down the exact same streets? He had no idea. And to make things worse, they were now on their way to talk to the ATF team that was working on the Derringer case. Why? Because one of Darlene McEvoy's neighbours had seen how two men had knocked on her door, shown her their badges and obviously asked her to accompany them.  
"So our ATF friends already brought her in for questioning," Danny smirked. "What a surprise. So what are we going to tell them? That Eve McEvoy is our new case and that they are interfering? Because this could be serious fun." Jack had to smile too. "Well, we'll ask them – friendly! – to be allowed to question her too, since she is important for our case." Martin snorted. Yeah right. He was not stupid. He knew who was most likely to take over the case from Simms. Although he still held on to the hope that he was wrong. His heart was thundering in his ears and made it difficult to follow the rest of the conversation in the car.  
Just a few more turns, six more red lights… and….yes, there they were. His eyes automatically thought out a row of windows on one of the top floors of the building. Right there… "Martin? You coming or what?" And again he found himself being stared at by his colleagues. Great. Make an idiot of yourself. Okay, he thought. He was now officially doomed.

----------

"Really you should have a look at this Chris, I didn't believe my eyes at first but it is there and I just... "  
"JD, slow down. What the hell is going on! I'm kind of busy right now."  
"But you really HAVE to look at this! I was checkin on that FBI team from New York and suddenly there was this one file and..."

---------------------

When they approached the entrance of the building, he had to stop himself from marching right through the doors like he had done so long ago. Martin caught himself in the last possible moment and slowly followed Jack into the building. Once inside, his eyes scanned the entrance area – and for the first time he realised that it was not all that different from the Federal building in New York. Once past security, they walked up to the huge reception counter, Martin again tried not to just walk forward and lean over the counter like he had done back then, but instead stayed behind Jack and Danny and tried to be invisible. A woman wearing a headset held up her hand to stop Jack from talking until she finished her call, then she turned to them. She eyed Jack and Danny, then looked at Martin, frowned for a second – and then her eyes widened. And only one second later, her loud, incredulous voice echoed through the security area and stopped everyone around in their tracks.

**"Oh my GOD, what have you done to your HAIR?"**

-

-

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - to be continued

-

-

-

Comment: MUAHAHAHAHA! Achem. I am sorry. But I just HAD to end this chapter with this scene. - snort- I had planned to start this chapter with the dream and end it with this exact scene at the reception counter. If you read ATF stories, you might know that it is somehow part of the fanon that most of the ATF secretaries have a crush on Vin. So one of them would know immediately what is going on.I just thought it would be funny to include this here :)

Okay, a few words about the chapter: I am SORRY it turned into a WAT casefile headdesk It just happened. Once my brain starts working, it's hard to stop writing. As I mentioned before, I do not really plan out what is going to happen, I come up with this while I write it. So there might be mistakes on my part, but that's just the way I write. So don't ask me about the case. I know how the main story will continue - but the casefile that somehow exploded? I have no idea. We'll see.

And I really REALLY hope I got the formatting right this time. I previewed and changed it like a dozen times and now I am close to having a fit. I wrote at least 5 of the 16 pages you see here last night, so I'll go have a nap now.

-collapse-


	3. Chapter 3

The ties that bind - Chapter Three 

A word from the author:  
Before I write anything else, I want to apologize for abandoning this for so long. My only excuse here is that real life got in the way and that struggling two jobs and university, a shitload of smaller and bigger katastrophes and troubles and finally, the temporary loss of what I call the "feeling" for this story really struck me down for some time. I had the beginning of this chapter written shortly after I posted chapter two, but somehow I always shyed away from the big "meeting" between the characters – and call me a chicken, but this scene scared the shit out of me. I finally got past that, I wrote it, it really happens in this chapter and maybe the rest will flow through me like the beginning of this story did. But the main reason for this author's comment is that I have come to a decision. Don't worry, I will continue this. But I have decided to post shorter chapters from now on, so that you won't be in the dark for two months or longer. That would be unfair and I could relax a bit more if I did not have to write those 20 pages monsters in a row again.

On to the reviewers! You know, I have been a reader here on for a long time and always found it a bit cheesy how writers answered to their reviewers on the story page. But now I feel that this is very cool and a special way of saying thank you for reading this crap

Ginevra: You know what? I loved your review. That was exactely the reaction I had wanted and the reason why I included this receptionist there. That is her only purpose, there's no deeper meaning in her life Poor thing. Mistx: I could be wrong, but could it be that you already read some Mag7 / WAT crossovers? Because some of your questions really made me nervous. I am not saying you are right with everything. But damn. Damn. Aewnaur : I am really sorry that this took so long, but finally : here you are! I hope you like it.  
TheNaggingCube: And again I apologize, for I made you wait even longer this time, approximately THREE months. Shame on me. Shaaaame.

Well then. On with the official crap.

DISCLAIMER: The Magnificent Seven and Without a Trace are not mine and I am writing this just for fun. I am going to add a few quotes here and there. And one more thing: English is not my native tongue, so please don't be mad if there are typos in this. And once again: the formatting here seems to hate my guts. I tried everything to make this look good - but damn, it again ate all my question marks. If there's a sentense that ends in "? " (With the empty space there) it most likely means a "!".  
SPOILERS: For all of you who kow Without a Trace: This takes place somewhere half way through season two of the show.

* * *

_"I just talked to my friend in the recruiting office. That offer for an interview is still out there"  
- "You gonna let a bounty hunter into the FBI?"  
"Sure, why not? Everybody's got a past."  
_(Jack Malone and Jessica Prince, "The line", WAT Season Two)

* * *

------

"Really you should have a look at this Chris, I didn't believe my eyes at first but it is there and I just... "  
Chris took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was already hip deep in paperwork and after another long talk with Travis about Simms his paitence was almost non existent. "JD, slow down. What the hell is going on? I'm kind of busy right now."

"But you really HAVE to look at this! I was checkin on that FBI team from New York and suddenly there was this one file and-"  
Chris had to stop himself from rolling his eyes – he appreciated JD's enthusiasm in everything he did, but today it was almost too much. He felt the beginnings of what would soon be one hell of a headache, so whatever it was, he hoped that JD was exagerating. The last thing he needed was another "revelation" about this already screwed up case. "Okay," he sighed, "what do you have?"

JD's grin was back full force, but before he could even say one more word or show Chris the printout he was waving around, Chris' phone rang. "Great", Chris muttered, already expecting another call from Travis. He frowned when he didn't recognize the number. "Larabee."

"Err… Sir? Uhm… this is Kylie Styles from reception and.. uhm"  
"Yes?" Chris interrupted her. He knew who she was, saw her almost every morning when he came in, but as far as he knew she had never called him before – whenever it came to that, her calls were somehow redirected to Buck's phone. And he really didn't want to know the details about how that came to be. "Well…. I…" she kept on stumbling over her own words some more. This was more than irritating. But the moment Chris wanted to comment on it, she seemed to get herself together. "Sir, there's something going on down here you should see."

"What?" This was strange. "What do you mean by 'there's something going on'? If it's a matter of security that's not my department-"  
"No no no!" she blurted out, obviously caught somewhere between excitement and confusion. "It's just that… you REALLY should come down here and take a look at it. PERSONALLY." His eyes narrowed at the way she emphazised the word 'personally'. This was more than weird. She didn't sound like she was in a panic or being threatened, so it had to be something else. He eyed JD suspiciously, but the young computer expert just stared back at him with huge eyes. Whatever was going on, he was not part of it – or he was a really good actor. Chris clenched his fist – they had a lot of work to do and there was really not the time for any stupid jokes right now! "Okay, I'll be there in five," he growled and hung up. He gave JD another sharp look on his way out of the office. "If this is another one of your or Buck's jokes, you're dead."

--------------

**"Oh my GOD, what have you done to your HAIR?"**

--------

The silence that followed the receptionists outburst was deafening. Most of the people – some of them agents, others security or maintenance personnel – had frozen in place and were now staring at the reception counter and the men standing in front of it. Two of the three men were simply staring at the third one, who had gone beet red and obviously wanted nothing more than to be somewhere else. Preferably far away. The receptionist was still staring at Martin with wide eyes, totally ignoring Danny and Jack. Danny was looking back and forth between her and Martin, obviously trying to find out if this situation was funny or dangorous. From the sparkle in his eyes he seemed to think of it more as funny. Jack Malone's face had turned dark – he really wasn't in the mood for any jokes at their expence. He had tried to talk to the receptionist, but she was still staring at Martin. This was getting ridiculous.  
And Martin… well, he had so hoped that he would have a few more minutes – hell, seconds maybe – to get ready for something like this. But obviously the world hated him today. Of all the receptionists and secretaries in the building it had to be Kylie… whatever her last name was, he couldn't remember. What he could remember was her reputation as the gossip queen around here – whatever had been going on, she had known about it first. And obviously, things hadn't changed much, because now she was calling someone while still staring at Martin.

"Err… Sir? Uhm… this is Kylie Styles from reception and.. uhm"  
Styles! Right. That was her name. What are you thinking, Martin chided himself mentally. Who do you think she is calling, huh? Well, it didn't need a genius to figure that one out. Shit. He could hear her talking on the phone, but really, it didn't matter what she was saying. This was another worst case scenario – no, it was even WORSE, because Jack and Danny were here to see it. Danny looked like he was enjoying himself immensly – and really, when wasn't he? After a really rough start Danny and Martin had become good friends, but still it seemed to be Danny's favorite thing to watch Martin make an idiot of himself. And Jack… whoa, Jack looked like he was ready to kill someone. This was not good. Martin took antother step back to keep some kind of distance between himself and the upcoming desaster – but really, who was he kidding? This was bad.

"It's just that… you REALLY should come down here and take a look at it. PERSONALLY." Martin felt his heart clench. And a moment later sarcasm kicked in. Because how much worse could it get from here?

-----

Chris stalked through the open office towards the elevator – and the three present members of his team held their breath. They could practically see the stormcloud hovering above Chris' head. Their leader was on the warpath – and he didn't look like he would be taking any prisoners. Josiah frowned. JD had left Chris' office only moments before, looking very confused. So, time to find out what was going on. Josiah left his desk and fell into step next to Chris.

"Is everything alright?"

"No," was the calm, almost casual reply. Mhm. This was not good. Josiah went through a mental list trying to find out if whatever was going on was somehow their fault. But no, they hadn't forgotten any deadlines for reports and as far as he knew there was none of Buck's or JD's practical jokes going on right now. So no, whatever it was, they were not to blame. He looked over his shoulder and signalled JD and Ezra with a shrug that he hadn't found out anything. But the other two looked as worried as he was, because they hadn't seen Chris like this in some time. So it was better to be careful.  
So when the elevator opened and Chris stepped in, he found himself accompanied by Josiah, JD and Ezra who stared past him and tried to look busy.  
"And where do you thing YOU are going?" Chris asked them through his teeth.

-------

Jack was ready to use his best "don't fuck with me" – voice on the receptionist. They had two people missing – one a suspect in an ATF case, the other an 18 year old girl – and this crazy woman was doing nothing but staring at one of his agents and wasting their time. Of corse he had expected something out of the ordinary, what with Martin knowing something about that one ATF agent and all. But this? Took the cake.

"Listen Miss…" he stepped forward and checked the ID card on her blouse. "…Styles. We have an important case and need to know who-"  
"Huh?" Kylie Styles interrupted him and blinked owlishly. "Oh. Yeah. Right. An agent will be here shortly to… sort things out. So to speak." She swallowed visibly and started shuffeling around documents. Danny leaned over to Martin and didn't really succeed in hiding his grin.

"Martin? What the hell was that about?" He pointed at the nervous receptionist. "Something you want to tell us?"

"No," Martin hissed and took another step back. This was not good. He knew – or better: he could imagine – what would happen only moments from now and he would do anything to have Danny and Jack out of the picture when the shit hit the fan. He was starting to feel cornered – and that was never a good thing. Out of instinct he looked over his shoulder at the entrance area, once more wishing he was somewhere else. Danny seemed to notice this and turned serious, the tough FBI agent back in charge.  
"Hey, everything alright?" Before Martin could answer, he heard the well known chime coming from the elevator behind him and shut his eyes tightly. So, what was there left to do? He slowly started counting down from twenty.

----

"And where do you think YOU are going?" Chris eyed the three members of his team suspiciously. Of corse he knew that they wanted to find out what was going on. Josiah shrugged.

"Getting some fresh air."

"As you might remember," Ezra chimed in, "there's this important appointment that I must not miss. And since I am already late…"

"Catching up on the latest office gossip." JD.

"Really." Chris ground out, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "At the reception, on the ground floor."

"Yup," Josiah nodded.  
"Where else would I be headed to leave the building?" Ezra.  
"If there is any new gossip around, the girls down there know about it," JD nodded, trying to sound enthusiastic. And in spite of his bad mood, Chris couldn't help but grin. "You know, I am really glad that there's not that much undercover work due right now. You are such sorry liars, it's embarassing." The tension in the elevator immediately vanished. Josiah and JD exchanged a relieved glance, while Ezra was tuggin on his coat and mumbling to himself.  
"Should I be offended by this? I think I am offended."

"Okay, now that this is settled," JD turned to Chris, "what the heck is going on? Why are we headed for the reception and who called you? Is there something going on down there? What…"

"I don't know," Chris interrupted him, "that's why I am on my way down. We'll see when we get there, JD. Breathe"  
"Why the hell is everyone telling me to breathe? I am perfectly fine, there's no reason…" In that momend, the elevator chimed when they reached the ground floor and the doors opened.

----

Finally. Jack Malone stared at the four men stepping out of the elevator. This had to be the agents this repectionist had been talking about. Or wait. Agent. She had only mentioned one agent. Well, maybe those other agents were his team. He didn't really care – the more, the better. After all, they didn't have much time. Danny turned around when the elevator chimed and watched the four men stepping out of it. So. ATF agents. Mhm. There was something about them that was defenitely different from Kincaid – or maybe it was just the fact that this was their office building. Their home base, so to speak. Here, they didn't seem out of place, the opposite was the fact. Those four men seemed to own the place, expecially the blonde one with the piercing green eyes who seemed to stare right through them. Out of the corner of his eye Danny noticed Martin taking another step back, as if to hide behind Danny. He was practically radiating tension and something that came close to panic. This was strange – Danny knew Martin well and he had never really seen him lose his cool like that. There was defenitely something going on here that they did not see. Time to take a closer look at those agents, then. Behind the blonde one – who defenitley was the team leader, according to the air of authority that surrounded him – walked a very tall man in his mid – forties who seemed to observe the situation calmly. Next to him was another man who was tugging at the hem of his coat and seemed more interested in his obviously expensive clothes than in what was going on around him. The last one looked like he was barely twenty, a kid with black hair and a bounce in his step. Well. Not very intimindating, to say the least. So what was going on here? According to the frown on Jacks face, he too was asking himself that question.

"Special agent Jack Malone, Missing Persons New York," Jack introduced himself and couldn't really hide a frosty tone in his voice. In spite of that he exchanged a handshake with the blonde agent.

"Chris Larabee, ATF," the other answered calmly and not really as formal as Jack had done. He seemed to observe them carefully, first Jack, then Danny. And that was the beginning of the end. Danny stepped forward to introduce himself and unwillingly stopped providing a shield for Martin to hide behind. And instead of offering his hand to Danny, Chris Larabee seemed to freeze in place, staring past Danny like that receptionist had done – but there was something different in this man's eyes. No surprise. It was more… disbelief. Then something that came close to hope… and then anger. No. It was more than that. Rage. Shit. Danny involontarily flinched when he realised that. Josiah, JD and Ezra watched in amazement as Chris froze, following their team leader's eyes. And they too stopped breathing for a moment. For an eternity as it seemed, nothing happened. Everything and everyone seemed glued in place. Then, the temperature dropped to freezing. Chris seemed to stagger when he took a step towards the third FBI agent, his eyes narrowed to slits.

"What… what is this?" he growled, but it was only slightly louder than a whisper. His eyes never left that FBI agent.

"Is this… is this some kind of sick joke?" Martin knew that he must have turned white by know, he could feel the icy cold on his face, that was now surging through his body. There was nothing left to hide behind, no shield between him and what was inevitable. Every wall he had carefully build up through the last years, every barrier between him and most of the rest of the world – and expecially his past – did not only crumble, but was ripped to pieces and thrown back at him. And it should not be like this. It should not happen like this, he had imagined it so many times, feared and craved it at the same time. This was like a bizarre mirror image of what this should be. All the time he had worked here, he had never felt anything negative about this place, no. It had been more like a home than any other place had ever been before. He had loved this place, loved his work and his friends. So he should not feel like a criminal, scared to the core of his being of what would happen now. No. It was all wrong, wrong and twisted. It should not be like this.

"Chris…" But if anything, the sound of his voice, this one word made everything worse. The anger in the other man's eyes faltered for only a second – and then turned into something deeper than just hate. From that moment on, everything was a blur. Out of the corner of his eye, Martin saw the blow coming, recognized the shift in the other man's stance and knew immediately what would happen. But at the same time, through all the confusion, somehow he knew that it would not happen, that it was wrong and against everything he remembered. So he did not flinch, did not even blink, but simply waited when the seconds stretched and time seemed to slow down. He waited, unfazed. And nothing happened. In a split second before hell broke loose, and various agents stepped between the two men, Martin caught a glimpse of the fist that had stopped only inches in front of his face. Then he only saw the back of Danny's head, heard the bark of Jack's outrageous voice and through it all recognized Josiah and Ezra as the two agents who had grabbed Chris' arms and dragged him backwards. Then he felt someone grab his own arm and somehow he knew that it was Danny. Damn, he thought through the fog that now seemd to spread inside his head. That went well.

----

Everything seemed far away. Security personnel barking orders, Agents talking a mile a minute, questions asked everywhere, demanding answers no one was willing to give right now.  
After the "incident", agent Chris Larabee and two of his team members had left for their office or some other place, which, Martin was not sure. He only remembered Danny grabbing him by the arm and steering him away towards the restrooms – how Danny could have known where to go, Martin had no idea. Probably charmed one of the receptionist into telling him. Probably Kylie what's-her-name. Now they were sitting on the small couch near the reception desk. Usually, this couch had been more decoration than anything else, no one had ever really used it as far as Martin remembered. But right now he was very thankful that it was there. He took a bleary look around and saw Josiah talking to Jack, than turning and leaving for the elevator. Jack walked up to them, his eyes dark and icy. He stood in front of the couch for a moment, then turned to Martin.

"Now," he began briskly, barely keeping his temper in check. "I want to know what the fuck is going on. Agent Sanchez just told me about mistaking you for someone else or something like that. But you know what? I don't believe it. There's something going on here that I really don't like and that we really don't need, do you understand? We still have a case and we are losing time. So before I go to Agent Larabee's office and try to get to the bottom of this, I want some answers. Because shit, there's nothing I hate more than running into a minefield like this unprepared."

-----

JD's computer silently hummed in one corner of the office. The office clock ticked on the far wall. A few raindrops were drumming against the windows. JD, Josiah and Ezra stood in the middle of the office, staring at Chris' office door that he had just closed behind him. A deefening, heavy silence seemed to weight down on them, combined with a deep feeling of confusion. Finally, it was Ezra who spoke up.

"Did… did I really see what I think I saw down there?"

"You mean that FBI agent?" JD answered, his voice hoarse. "Then yeah, defenitley."

Josiah sighed deeply. "This is… not good."

"I just wish.." JD whispered, sinking down into an office chair. "I wish I had found out sooner."

Ezra's eyes narrowed. "What? Are you implying you knew about this?"

"NO!" JD burst out. "I mean – I read through the file of that FBI team and stumbled over this, but before I could tell you or anyone else this… this THING happened and then…"

"It's okay, JD," Josiah tried to calm him down. "It doesn't matter. Because even if you had shown us what you found out, it would not have prevented this. I am sure."

"So, what are we to do know?" Ezra slowly asked, gesturing towards Chriis' office door. "We call the others," Josiah answered, trying to assess the situation. "Where are they?" JD thought for a moment, everything seemed like it had happened years ago. But then the missing piece of information turned up in his head. "Interrogating Darlene McEvoy."

-----

"Now why would I lie to you! For him? Not a chance in hell. He would not contact me of all people." Buck threw his arms up in exasperation and Nathan sighed deeply. This interview was getting them nowhere. Darlene McEvoy, a slender woman in her early forties, raised a thin red eyebrow. "Is this all? You drag me in here to talk about a man I knew three – no wait! – FOUR years ago?" She sraightened her dark jacket and dragged her hand threw her long, red hair. She was wearing a grey costume under the jacket, which made her look like a business woman – but something was odd about her. The way she dressed did not really match with her attitude and the way she talked. "Oh come on," Buck huffed. "You didn't just KNOW him. From what we know, you were in a relationship.."

"A relationship?" Darlene McEvoy interrupted him, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "This man you are talking about does not even know the meaning of that word. He doesn't even remember your name long enough to qualify for that. He's a fishy bastard who weasels off at the first sight of trouble." Nathan grinned. "So you really did know him pretty well."

Her eyes turned flinty. "I have no idea what you are trying to find out here. Yes, I dated him four years ago. Three dates, all of them on the top ten list of the worst dates I ever had. The next thing I know I was interrogated in a room like this and asked the same questions you geniusses are asking me now. A very nice experience. Thank God I have never seen him since and do not wish to ever again in my life. He's a stupid, one track mind bastard who is only interested in money and how he can get his hands on even more money. There." She crossed her arms and gave the impression of a teenager in detention. Buck sighed and rose from his chair. "Would you excuse us for a moment?" Outside the interrogation room Nathan and Buck both sighed again.

"That was weird," Nathan finally stated.

"Defenitely," Buck agreed. "Looks like forty, talks like forteen."

"And lies like a six year old."

"You bet", Buck nodded. "She dated him. And not just three times." Buck looked through the large one way window into the interrogation room, where Darlene McEvoy was still waiting, looking insulted and angry. "Sounds like she liked him – and he got her into trouble or something like that." Nathan snorted. "You mean something worse than being interrogated by federal agents?"

"Yeah. The way she talked about him, it was personal." Nathan thought about that for a moment. "That, or she's one hell of an actor." Nathan's cell phone rang and he frowned. "It's Josiah," he murmured, shrugging. "What's wrong?"

"Is Buck with you?" the teams profiler asked. Nathan's frown deepened. Josiah didn't even ask about the results of the interview. "Yes," he finally answered hesitantly. "Josiah, is everything alright?" "No. Not really. Please head back to the office right now. And bring Buck."

-----

A few minutes later Buck and Nathan burst into the open office which was earily quiet.

"What the hell is going on here!" Buck boomed. "Lilly from team four just told us Chris hit an FBI agent in front of an audience!"

JD, Ezra and Josiah stared back at them for a moment, exchanging worried glances.

"Almost," JD mumbled. "He didn't really hit him."

"So it's true?" Nathan shouted in disbelief.

"Where is he?" Buck asked slowly, sensing that something was very wrong. Chris was nowhere to be seen – and the door to his office was once more closed. Not good. He walked towards it, but Josiah called him back. "Wait. There's something you should see first." He pointed at JD, who was sitting at his computer, looking miserable. "Ah…I…" JD started, taking a deep breath. "I asked Ben from security for the tapes from the reception area. You… should really see this, Buck." Once more on that day, the temperature seemed to drop. Buck slowly walked over to JD's desk, staring at the computer screen. The tape was from one of the cameras above the reception desk, showing the place from an odd angle. All Buck could see were three strangers who were standing in front of the reception desk, talking to Kylie. He could not really make out their faces though. "There's no sound," JD explained, "but believe me, that won't really be necessary." Nathan, Ezra and Josuah gathered around JD's desk too. "That's when we exited the elevator," Josiah nodded and pointed at the screen where the elevator doors opened in the background. Buck watched Chris and one of the strangers shake hands and nodding at the second one. Everything seemed normal. And then…

"What the.." They watched Buck turn sheet white and slowly sitting down in one of the office chairs. He stared at the screen with an empty look in his eyes, not really realising that JD had stopped the video the moment chaos had broken loose. For almost five minutes, nothing happened. Buck's mind was racing. He had not really been able to see the face of this FBI agent, but the impression on Chris' face had given it all away. There was only one man on this planet who could have caused Chris to react like this.  
JD seemed to read his friend's mind and clicked on a file folder on his desktop. The screen was now filled with information about Special Agent Martin Fitzgerald, accompanied by a nice photo. Buck slowly shook his head, trying to take in this crazy situation.

"Jesus." Nathan didn't really look any better. "This is insane," he whispered, turning to Chris' office. "What did he.. I mean… has he…" "Not a word since we returned," Ezra answered. "Not a single word." "No surprise," Buck hissed, standing up. He turned and walked towards Chris' office. Ignoring the stares of the others.

------

After a tense question and answere game between Jack and Martin, they now knew that a few years ago Martin had worked for the ATF using another name - and that Agent Chris Larabee had been the leader of the team Martin had been a member of. For almost three years. "I can't believe you never told us about that," Danny whispered, shaking his head. Martin stared out of the window, like he had done through most of the conversation. "I had my reasons." "Probably," Jack nodded to their surprise, but he turned serious again. "But you could have told us the moment you knew that we would run into…these people." Martin chuckled. "These people… believe me, you haven't really met them yet."

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TBC

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Ack! Yes, I'll stop right here. But I will post more - and it will not take as long as it did before. Again all I can say is that I am sorry you had to wait this long. And I am sorry that there didn't really happen so much. When I compared this chapter to the last I was like: "Okayyy... they get there, they meet - and that's it? Boo." Sorry

And about the quote at the beginning: This was just too cool to let it slide. And you can bet that I will refer to the "The line" more than once! I mean - come on. This is perfect +rubs hands+


	4. A little note from the author

Hallo everybody!

No, this is not the new chapter - I know, I am sorry!! - but instead a short note for you. As you can read, I am still alive and I am currently writing on chapter four. (I already have 3 pages, YAY!)

I just wanted to say thank you to the reviewers who still put up with me, in spite of all the time you have to wait for updates. Thank you so much for your support , hugs to you all.

Like I said, chapter four is currently in the making and should be uploaded sometime this week So don't give up hope.

And I have decided that even if I ever finish TTTB, I will still write in that little Universe, since this has been and stil is an icredible journey and I love this way too much to leave it behind.

So, see you soon !!!

love shun 


	5. Chapter 4

The ties that bind - Chapter Four

A word from the author:

One more time it took me weeks – months? – to update and I am so very sorry. I had to work my way through several exams and so on and so forth – life has been very busy during these last weeks. Every now and then I have written bits and pieces of this, but it is very difficult to create the right atmosphere for it when there is so much stress going on around you. Anyways, here's another chapter

To the reviewers

Thank you guys for the comments on the really short third chapter – because this chapter was the most difficult one to write for my up to now, those comments meant a lot to me.

DISCLAIMER: The Magnificent Seven and Without a Trace are not mine and I am writing this just for fun. Oh! And thank you MOG for creating the wonderful ATF universe which offers a myriad of possibilities for us fanfiction writers.

SPOILERS: Just the usual – this takes place somewhere half way through Season Two of Without a Trace. I don't know exactely when, but the whole Franco Reyes desaster from "A tree falls" has already happened. you'll find a few references to "The line" in this (again. I just love that episode.Simply because of the whole Bounty Hunter thing - and because of Bob Bellaqua. He's the best OC of the show. Oka, forget I wrote this, it's totally random.)

On a side note:

I have been asked WHY I let this take place in Season two of WAT and not later. Well, there are several reasons.

1.)Actually I did a lot of math before writing this and four years seem more than enough for a person to be gone / missing. That's all I am saying.

2.)I HATE Elena. So I am sticking to the WAT seasons where she is not yet part of the picture.

3.)And most importantly: after season two the character of Martin seemed to change a lot and the character development took a direction that would have been difficult to capture in a story like this. The whole Sam/Martin issue irked me – to me, it was so OOC it hurt. So much for season three. In season four, there is a whole side story arc beginning with Martin getting shot, followed by him getting addicted to pain meds and so on. While this added a lot of depth to the character and was delivered really well by Eric Close, I did not want to go there. Instead, I wanted to capture the more positive vibe from the wonderful season one and the still very good season two.

Oh! And in other news:

I found myself a beta. Or better: the beta found me I have never had anyone beta-read a story of mine before, so this is totally new to me. So I'm sending a warm welcome and a big thank you to AJ Squaredaway, who will have to put up with my none-existing formatting skills, my typos, my weird English and my altogether crazy way of writing. And of corse from the next chapter on, you will, like you put it, "read the story first." Be sure that I am more than flattered and very thankful!

-------------------------------

After a tense question and answer game between Jack and Martin, they now knew that a few years ago Martin had worked for the ATF using another name - and that Agent Chris Larabee had been the leader of the team Martin had been a member of. For almost three years.

"I can't believe you never told us about that," Danny whispered, shaking his head.

Martin stared out of the window, like he had done through most of the conversation. "I had my reasons."

"Probably," Jack nodded to their surprise, but he turned serious again. "But you could have told us the moment you knew that we would run into…these people."

Martin chuckled. "These people… believe me, you haven't really met them yet."

"Well, I will," Jack sighed, turning towards the elevator. "I want you and Danny to stay here, we have caused enough chaos as it is. I'll call you as soon as I know more."

"But…" Danny tried to protest, but Jack was already in the elevator. "Great. Now what? We just sit here and do nothing?"

When Martin didn't answer, Danny's mood turned darker and darker. He tried to occupy himself with watching the agents walk by and counting the ones who stared at Martin, shook their heads in disbelief and walked on. He stopped counting at 23.

"Is there anyone around here who does not know you?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm

To his surprise, Martin smiled. "No, I guess not."

The moments of silence stretched.

Danny took a deep breath. He wanted to hit something. Preferably Martin. This was – wow. Of all the things he had expected, this took the cake. Martin… and ATF agent? The green agent who had transferred from White Collar with that unnerving attitude and an unpredictable temper? Had worked here? This changed everything. It turned everything Danny thought he knew about Martin upside down. The thoughts were racing through his head. He was so good at his job because he had learned to quickly adjust to new situations. But this…was a little bit much to take. On the one hand, so many things made a lot more sense now . But on the other hand…

He had often wondered why they worked so well together. Why it was so easy to find the missing pieces when Martin was there and the banter bounced back and forth between them until they found out what they wanted to know. For someone who had – supposedly!! – spent most of his days behind an office desk, working on what Martin himself often called "math crimes" in White Collar, Martin had always seemed to move easily in dangorous situations. Of corse he had pulled a few really stupid stunts in the beginning, but he had still been green then – no wait. Danny growled. He hadn't. Because that had all been a lie. Some kind of stupid mask he had been wearing.

Danny felt himself getting more and more angry.

What was true? Who the hell was this guy?!

Because it wasn't only that ATF agent thing.

The Rangers?! A sharpshoter?!

Hell no.

Hadn't Martin once told him that his father had wanted him to go into politics? How the hell had Martin ended up wading through dirt, carrying a sniper rifle?! That was so far out it hurt.

Okay, Danny thought. Calm down. You know him well enough to be sure that he will not tell you anything if you shout at him. Or hit him. Although right now, it was tempting.

"So," Danny finally asked without looking at Martin, "are you going to tell me? The whole story I mean."

Martin sighed. He could hear that Danny was barely keeping his anger in check. And boy did he feel bad about that. He had never wanted for the others to find out like this – expecially not Danny. Jack was his boss and he respected him, Sam was always polite but seemed to live in her own little world. Vivian was very smart and was the perfect person to turn to if there were any problems. But of all the members of their team, Danny was the closest to what Martin would call a friend. Screw that, they WERE friends. And now?

In another place – any other place – Martin would have answered the question with another question, like "what exactely do you want to hear?". But here? He took another look around. He had never had to lie here. Had never wanted to. And still he had done so. Of corse he could be nitpicky now and make a difference between withholding information and flat out telling a lie.

That aside – he had no idea where to start. Being here, seeing THEM… it was still overwhelming. He had no idea what was going to happen now and that scared him. A myriad of thoughts was flying around in his head. So they were still a team? Was everything alright? What had happened in those years? Was there a possibility that he could just hide and wait till this whole desaster was over?

He carefully weighted his options. Of corse this whole situation was just waiting to turn into a desaster, the storm was already coming up, was just biding it's time. And he did not want that. He had to find a way out somehow. For them.

But still Danny and the others deserved to know.

"Well", he sighed after a long silence, "it started out with a bust gone terribly wrong, was followed by an accident I was in… and ended with me waking up in a hospital in Washington D.C. without having the slightest idea how the hell I got there."

Danny turned to him, his eyes narrowed. "What exactely is that supposed to mean?"

Martin thought a moment about what he had just said. To someone who didn't know the whole story, it had to sound confusing.

He stood up and stretched.

"What are you doing?" Danny asked, still confused. "Jack told us to wait here."

"I know," Martin answered, making a decision. "But you wanted to hear the whole story. I know a better place for that."

---

When Buck opened the door to Chris' office, he felt like time had been turned back. Chris was again standing in front of the window, his back to his friend. Buck sighed.

"Chris, listen… I have no… I mean I don't know how…"

"You don't know?" Chris interrupted him, his voice so hollow it sent a shiver down Buck's spine. "Damn. And here I thought you were the guy with all the answers."

"No," Buck answered without missing a beat. "That'd be Josiah."

The joke fell flat and the silence was back. It was a heavy, strained silence.

"You read his file?" Buck asked carefully, not really sure how to deal with this.

"Yes," was the short and eerily calm answer. It made Buck want to hit something.

"And? What do you think?" he asked again, forcing himself to stay calm.

Chris turned around and glared at him. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but couldn't find the right words. He turned around and shook his head.

"What are you expecting me to say, Buck? Huh?" His voice rose in volume. "How am I supposed to react to… to THIS? You tell me, because I sure as hell don't know!"

Buck considered this for a moment. "Well.. I was not there. But I saw you. On the security tape. I saw your reaction."

Chris' eyes narrowed. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You recognized him."

"No. There's nothing – NO." Chris took a step back as if to end the conversation, but Buck was having none of it.

"So you are just going to do – what? Ignore this guy? Ignore this whole thing? How? Don't get me wrong, it's not like we are not shocked, too. But…"

"This is not how it is supposed to be."

The words had been not much more than a whisper, but they shocked them both. Buck stared at his friend, and for a moment, Chris just stared back, like he had not intended to say that out loud. But it was too late. Then the angry look and Chris' face was back.

"I have no idea what is going on here. Or who he is. But this…" he pointed at the file folder on his desk. .."is crazy. I don't want to talk to him. And that is not open for discussion."

Buck glared at him and then nodded slowly, like he was understanding something important.

"He said something to you, didn't he? That's what I saw on the tape. What was it?"

For a moment, there was silence. Chris had obviously not seen this question coming. He turned towards his desk and sat down.

He took a deep breath like he was about to answer the question – but then decided against it.

"What… what if it was all a lie?" he then asked, his voice hoarse. "I mean everything. Three years… what if he never existed?"

---

"Larabee."

The voice on the other end of the line was tired and angry. For a moment Buck considered hanging up, but someone had to do something. And again, it was him. JD had disappeared a few minutes ago, working on some computer problem.

"Hey, it's me."

Silence. Then: "What do you want?"

Buck groaned. "Oh come on, Chris. It's been a week. What is going on with you? With both of you?"

"He wanted two weeks off, so he will get them. End of story," was the tense reply.

"Yeah, so?" Buck felt like he was talking to a stubborn teenager. And boy, could those two be stubborn. "We all needed the time off, he was just the only one gutsy enough to say it out loud."

He could hear Chris sigh. It sounded strained and that was never a good sign. Form this point on, he knew that Chris could and maybe would do one of two things: he would either hang up or shout at him and hang up after that. None of those two variations would lead to any good.

"Okay," Buck tried again, "let me put it like this. We are very thankful for the time off.."

"Who's we?" Chris interrupted him, his voice sounding suspicious.

"If you really want to know, JD, Nathan, Josiah and me. JD's next door, and Nate and Josiah have been calling a few times. Well, you know how it is with Ezra. He's probably at home, sipping some expensive coffee, enjoying the silence. Staying away from us as long as he can."

There were a few moments of silence. Buck waited, letting the information sink in. Finally, Chris took the bait.

"So he hasn't called?"

"No," Buck shouted back, his paitence wearing thin. "Just like you. What the hell are you two doing, sitting at home staring at the wall? Is this some kind of game to see which one of you is the most stubborn?"

"Have you tried calling him?" Chris asked, ignoring the rant.

"Of corse, but the line was always dead. Probably ripped the thing out of the wall. Would not be the first time." Buck hesitated. Now that he had said it out loud, he was worried. "Have you?"

"No."

This was not good. Of corse Vin was an adult and could look after himself - they all knew that. And although he was usualy very calm and friendly, he could be stubborn as hell and brood for days if his mind was set on something. Still he always kept in touch, calling in on a regular basis. But now it had been a week. Something was not right. There was another moment of silence - but the desicion had already been made.

"I'm gonna meet you there," Chris said shortly.

"Got it."

Half an hour later two cars arrived at the small apartment building in Purgatorio. It was already late and the darkness was always a problem in this part of town. Narrow streets and old buildings caused a lot of shadows and expecially this neighborhood screamed desaster. How often had they tried to convince Vin to move to another place? But Vin would have none of it - for some reason this place meant a lot to him. They had soon found out that he was looking after the kids of the neighborhood and that he was trying to keep the gang activities at bay. Well, no wonder Ezra loved to call him "Robin Hood". The building was dark and surrounded by an eerie silence. Both Buck and Chris stared at it for a while, feeling that something was indeed not right.

"I'm going to look for his car," Chris growled, walking to the back of the building. Buck nodded and made his way to the front door, knocking as loud as he could.

Finally, a kid opened the door. He could not be older than sixteen and Buck recognized him immedeately. He was one of the kids who often used Vin's computer or simply spent time in his appartment.

"Julius?" Buck asked, not sure if that was really his name.

The kid nodded, staring at him suspicously. Then he seemed to recognize him and hastily opened the door.

"Hey, it's you. What's wrong? Something happen to Vin?"

This surprised Buck, because as far as he knew, the kids in this building usually knew everything that was going on -expecially when it involved Vin.

"We don't know. Isn't he here?"

The kid's eyes widened. He stepped aside, letting Buck in and they hastily made their way up the stairs to VIn's appartment.

"No," Julius said, now sounding worried. "He left on his bike about a week ago. I tried to talk to him, but he seemed to be kind of angry. Said that he was busy, so I thought that he would have to go back to work soon. I mean he's done that before, so we were not worried when he did not come back for some time. But now..."

To Buck's surprise, the kid had a key to the appartment and opened the door. He wanted to go in first, but something felt wrong and Buck grabbed his arm to stop him. The apartment was dark and quiet - too quiet. Usually there was always an old radio playing somewhere in the apartment, although Buck had never seen the thing. But Vin was not stupid, he knew what kind of neighborhood this was and left the thing switched on, even when he was asleep or not at home. Usually a few of the lights stayed on too, just to give the impression that someone was home.

Unlike now.

Buck slowly walked past Julius, keeping close to the wall. His own breath sounded hollow, like he was standing in an empty room.

And suddenly he knew what was wrong.

He felt around for a lightswitch... and had no idea how long he just stood there, staring in disbelief.

He heard Julius gasp and more felt like saw him walk into the aparment, stumbling around in shock.

After what felt like an eternity, he heard someone coming up the stairs in a hurry.

"Buck? The jeep's still there, but his bike is... gone..."

Buck did not turn around, did not need to turn around to know that Chris was as shocked as he was.

"What the..."

When Buck finally turned around, he saw Chris step out of the aparment to check the number on the door. It was the first of many times he would do that.

"What..." he whispered when he slowly walked back into the apartment, "what is this? Where..."

Buck slowly shook his head. He had no idea what to say. It was unbelievable.

The whole apartment was empty. No, not just empty. Clean. Eerily clean. Like nobody had been living here for a long time. They slowly walked into what only a week before been a small living room and kitchen - but the furniture was gone. The old TV set was gone. Even the ugly carpet was not there anymore.

"How.." Julius stuttered, looking around with huge eyes. "How is this possible? We never heard or saw anything... I saw him leave on his bike a few days ago... he never said anything! Why would he do this? Where would he go? Why..."

He kept on asking the same questions again and again, but neither Buck nor Chris were really listening. Out of the corner of his eye Buck saw Chris kneel down slowly and was alarmed - but Chris was just picking something up from the ground. It was a wooden charm Vin had sometimes worn on a necklace, sometimes on a bracelet. It was the only thing left of him in the apartment.

Buck turned away, then he walked towards the door. He mumbled a short "I'll call the others," but he was really just trying to get out of there as fast as possible. It was more an instinct then a rational desicion.

This was not true.

Something terrible had happened here and they would find out what.

-----

"What… what if it was all a lie? I mean everything. Three years… what if he never existed?"

Time seemed to slow down and Buck felt a heavy weight on his shoulders. He had thought about that too. It was the one question that could destroy everything. Since this FBI personnel file was not a fake, this meant that something was terribly wrong. No one could really live two lives. Well, maybe except Ezra, but that was beside the point. The question here was: what was real… and what was fake? He did not, could not believe that anything Vin had told them about himself – on the few occasions he had done so – could be a lie. No. They had all known the man for three years, considered him a friend, had trusted him with their lives. There was no way in hell anything about him was a lie.

Buck cleared his throat. "So… what do you want to do about this?"

When Chris did not answer, Buck crossed his arms and waited. Finally, Chris gave in.

"I want this to end," he wispered. "I want us to be able to move on. I want to be sure."

Buck could not hide a smile. "Then there is only one way to find out."

----

"Okay," Vivian sighed, looking at the mess of clothes on the table in front of her. "so this is all there was?" The officer from the airport security nodded. "This is the only suitcase Eve McEvoy checked in with aside from a small backpack holding her purse, her passport and a laptop. She was allowed to take that one into the plane with her. She was registered when she checked out, but she obviously forgot the suitcase. Unfortunately, we have no adress here in NYC where we could contact her about it."

"Yes, I know," Vivian interrupted him, feeling a headache coming up. She sighed again and called Sanamtha's cell phone, ignoring everything else.

"Spade."

"I just checked Eve's suitcase," Vivian told her, "there's nothing interesting in it aside from clothes for about a week. The only things she took with her were her purse, her passport and a laptop."

"Okay, the purse and the passport I can understand. But why the laptop? If you are in a hurry, that's just useless weight to carry around," Sam finished, her voice full of doubt.

"Well, maybe the laptop was the only thing that was important enough to her to keep," Vivian tried.

"Wait a second," the security officer piped up. "So you are saying this woman – girl, whatever – did not forget her suitcase, she left it behind on purpose? And only took her laptop?!" Vivian shot im a glare and turned his back to him so that he could not hear what she was saying. "I found something else in her suitcase that might help us." She looked at the little book in her hands. "Obviously, Eve McEvoy had a diary which she often used as a calendar. It doesn't go very far back, just a few weeks. There are no phone numbers, but a lot of stuff that looks like math – calculations and a few names." She could hear Samantha writing down notes.

"What kind of names?" she asked.

"Well and that's the catch", Vivian sighed. "From what I can see, these are internet aliases. Like chatroom – names. Nothing else. No adresses or names that sound like real people."

Samantha groaned. "Oh great. That's not very helpful."

"Maybe it is," Vivian thought aloud. "Think about it: Eve McEvoy gets on a plane to New York without telling anyone. Okay, we don't know what she told her mother yet, but let's just pretend nobody knows anything. She gets here – and something happens that forces her to change plans. She decides to take a risk and leave everything behind except for the essential things."

"And maybe," Samantha caught on, "for a girl who carries around a diary full of the names of chat buddies, her laptop is essential."

"Mhm-mhm," Vivian agreed. "There is nothing else in the suitcase. No books or anything that might indicate other hobbies."

"So, what are you saying?" Samantha asked. "That she's a chat room addict?"

"Or maybe a hacker," Vivian added. "This math stuff could very well be codes for some program."

"What about the security tapes?" Sam asked again, still writing down notes.

"I already checked those," Vivian sighed for the third time. "There's nothing on it. She's there for just a second when she checks out, but then she disappears into the crowd. I'll bring them anyway, maybe techs can find out more. What about you?"

Sam stopped writing and checked her notes. "Not much. Seems like Eve has graduated from high school not long ago and took some time off to earn some money before starting college. Nothing unusual. I have also tried to reach Darlene McEvoy, but she does not answer her phone. According to what I have found out, she is currently unemployed. She has worked as a secretary in a lawyers office, was a shop assistant in a mall and in a bookstore, has helped out in a travel angency – and the list goes on. Looks like she always quit after a few months."

Vivian's eyebrows rose. "Can she afford that?"

Samantha smiled, knowing exactely what that question meant. "I am working on it."

"Good girl."

-------

Jack Malone stayed in the entrance area to the huge open office for a while and just observed. Never before in his life had he felt more out of place in his black suit and tie. On his way up he had met several ATF agents in casual clothing, holding coffee cups, eating food or chatting. There were posters on the walls, plants in almost every corner. Agents walking past each other stopped for a short chat, exchanged notes or simply greeted each other. It seemed like here, the different divisions cooperated much better. Compared to the rare occasions when the MPU had had to cooperate with the JTTF… Jack shuddered. He prefered not to go there. Harrington still hated his guts. And vice versa.

The open office he was in now was calm – he saw four agents at their desks. These desks were all over the place in no real order. Except for one desk at the far wall. The person sitting there would sit with the back to the wall and would be able to overlook the whole room. Including the other desks and the doors. But that desk was empty and did not look like it was used on a regular basis. Mhm.

The whole office was most unusual. The desk the dark haired kid occupied was for example surrounded by soda cans, bags of leftover takeout and … toys? Jack could make out a baseball glove, a blue basketball and some weird looking action figures. In a corner was a small bar with a coffee machine and a refrigerator. Next to that was a couch and a desk in front of a TV set. On the far wall there was a wooden door plastered with post it – notes. Obviously it was some kind of storage room.

His thoughts were interrupted by two of the ATF agents who walked out of a separate office and headed towards him. He recognized Chris Larabee but could not place the second agent. Was that even an agent? The dress code in this building was obviously not very strict.

"Agent Malone," Larabee nodded, "I am sorry but there is something important that I have to see to. My team will fill you in on what we know about the case." With that, Chris walked past him and headed for the elevator.

For a moment Jack was at a loss, then things clicked into place. "Does this have to do with one of my agents?" he asked loudly, his voice cold.

Chris stopped and glared at Malone – who just glared back.

All eyes turned towards them. JD swallowed hard. This was not good. The last thing they needed was a situation like this getting out of control. They did not know Agent Malone, but JD had the nagging feeling that he was just as stubborn as Chris. There was something about him that JD could not place, but he was sure that it was best not to underastimate him.

Finally, Josiah stepped in.

"Please, Agent Malone. If we can help you in any way with this case, we will do so. I am sure Agent Dunne," he nodded towards JD, "can update you about Derringer's file and about Darlene McEvoy."

Jack and Chris glared at each other for a few more moments, then Jack nodded slowly and turned towards JD, dismissing Chris. He had planned to talk to him, but maybe it was better to step back and wait what would happen.

"Okay. We have to talk to Darlene McEvoy as soon as possible."

"She just left," Nathan chimed in, "but we already told her that we might have to talk to her again."

"Okay," Jack nodded, "what did she tell you about Eve?"

Nathan frowned. "The daughter?"

"Yes," Jack hissed, his paitence slipping away. "The daughter. She took a flight to New York a few days ago and has not been seen since then. She is the main reason we are here."

"Oh right," JD grinned. "Missing persons. Of corse. Okay, let's see.." He turned towards his computer screen and clicked on a file.

At the same time, Chris and Buck left the open office without a word.

----

"Wow," Danny stated, looking down at Denver. "Nice view."

After a long elevator ride and a few flights of stairs, they had finally reached the rooftop of the building – and Danny did not really want to know how Martin could have possibly known how to get up here.

Martin walked up next to him and took a deep breath.

"Yeah," he sighed, obviously deep in thoughts. Somewhere along the way he had gotten rid of his suit jacked and his god awfull tie (everybody thought that his ties were ugly), so that he did not look so out of place in this building any more.

Danny crossed his arms. "I am waiting. You did not just drag me up here for the view, remember?"

Martin nodded. "I know. But… I don't really know where to start."

"Well, let me help you out," Danny shot back without missing a beat. "Who is Vin Tanner?"

Martin's eyes widened and for the first time ever Danny could not find a single trace of the Fitzgerald mask that usually hid his friend's emotions so well. No, this was the real deal. So he had hit a nerve. Who would have thought?

"How…" Martin started, but the rest of the sentence was lost to him. This had come unexpected. Danny smiled. "We are FBI agents, remember? It's our job to find out things like these. Throw in a few people who still owed me a a favor…and so I finally found a name. Not much more, but at least that. So I ask you again: who is he?"

Martin still looked at the skyline of the town. "I am," he finally gave in.

Danny nodded slowly but was far from done. "How? And why?"

Martin chuckled to himself and finally turned towards Danny. "Would you believe me if I told you that it just.. kind of happened? That a stupid idea a stubborn teenager had got out of hand?"

Danny was not really sure how to react to this, so he crossed his arms. "Go on."

"I ran away," Martin shrugged, a kind of sad smile on his face. "It's a simple as that. When I was a kid, talking back to my father had been some kind of game for me. A sport. He wanted me to do boring things, so I did the complete opposite. But when I got older, I realised that he had obviously planned out my entire life without asking me what I wanted. That scared the shit out of me and the arguments became more serious. It got to a point where we could not stay in the same room without starting a shouting match. He wanted me to go into politics, so he decided what college I would go to to achieve that goal. He told me that friends would only get in the way if you wanted a successful career. And that was the most important thing for him. Success. Influence. Power. I wanted nothing like that. It was like a war at home. I did not want to end up like that, with a huge but cold house, a job that eats up my life and nothing else to turn to. So after my first few weeks at college, I ran."

Danny tilted his head, like he had expected something like that. "And then what?" he asked. "You decided to join the rangers?" That part of the story was still a mystery to Danny.

"Not really," Martin answered, smiling. "I had little money and almost everything I had fit into one backpack. So I hitchhiked…"

"You what?!" Danny interrupted him, his eyes wide. "That's what you meant when you told us that you hitchhiked through the states? You did this when you were a KID?!"

Martin felt himself blush. "Yeah. Kind of. Not for very long though. But it seemed like a good idea at the time. Of corse I called every now and then to let them know that I was okay."

"And then you joined the Rangers," Danny interrupted him again, fixated on that idea.

"I was getting to that, but yes. I did my four years."

Danny snorted. "You say that like it's nothing!"

Martin shrugged again. "It was long ago, Danny. Get over it."

"The hell I will! But go on. Don't mind me. Just tell me why you did that."

"Honestly?" Martin turned serious again. "Because I was sure that my father would not look for me there.Because I was good at it. And because they did not ask many questions."

Danny pointed at him, finally catching on. "So that was when Vin Tanner was born."

"Yes," Martin agreed, taking a deep breath. Danny frowned. "But why Tanner?"

For a moment, Martin seemed to be unsure about answering that question. Then he shrugged, "It was my mother's last name."

Danny flinched. "Whoa, wait. Then Anne Fitzgerald isn't…"

Martin took a step back. "It's a long story," he stated firmly, making it clear that he would not discuss that topic.

"Okay," Danny retreated. He decided to let it go for now, but filed it away for later use. "But why Vin!?" Yes, that was a good question.

Martin fidgeted for a moment and mumbled something. "What?" Danny asked, a lot louder than necessary. "I didn't quite catch that."

"It's… it's a middle name kind of thing," Martin repeated and blushed again.

Had the situation been different Danny would have thought of this as amusing, but he was still not done.

"So you left the rangers – and then? You joined the ATF?" This was still more than weird. Martin hesitated for a moment. "Not immediately."

Danny huffed, his paitence finally gone. Everything he had thought he knew about his friend was now worthless. It was a lot to take in. No, it was insane.

"Just one question," Danny stated after trying to sort out the chaos in his mind. "Was… was there ever a moment when you thought that someone might find out?"

Martin hesitated, not really sure how to deal with that question. He had always tried to keep those two lives apart and sometimes that had been difficult.

"Oh. I…" Martin sighed. "Well, you got it covered pretty well when you questioned me in the office the other day. The Anwar Samir case, Greg Pritchard…"

"Uhuh. Anything else?"

Martin seemed to think about this for a moment, then he grinned.

"Prince's Bail Bonds."

Danny frowned. "What?"

"Jessica Prince. You know, the cop gone bounty hunter who was investigating…"

"Yeah right, I remember. What about her? Did you know her?"

"No, not Jesse. But you asked about a moment when I really thought someone would find out. Well, I think it was on that case, when Jack questioned Lorraine Prince in her office for the first time. I kept in the background and read through her casefiles. Then I had to ask her about missing files – and god, I was so scared she'd recognize me."

"Recognize you? But why should she…" Danny's frown deepened.

Martin turned away like it was nothing important. "Well, I met her. Once. I helped her out."

"You did what?" Danny was lost. "Why should you…" Then his eyes widened. "No. You're not telling me that you… no. Oh come on. You can't be serious. YOU?"

Martin shrugged. "Well, let's just say I have been in New York before. Besides, everybody has to eat."

"You are telling me you were a… you… you went hunting down bail jumpers?"

"Yeah. That so hard to believe?"

Danny snorted. "Well yes. I mean…sorry. I just can't see it."

Danny stared at him for a while, trying to see the man Martin was describing here, a kid who had done four years with the rangers as a sharpshooter and then… It was just not there. Sure, sometimes there was something about Martin, an edge that Danny had seen on rare occasions. Most of the time it had vanished as fast as it had appeared. Aside from that, Martin had a temper which flared from time to time… but a sharpshooter? An ATF agent? A BOUNTY HUNTER?! What the hell was next?! Superman?

"Okay," Danny said slowly, "let me get this straight. After your time with the rangers, you did what? You became a bounty hunter?"

Martin shrugged again. "Yes."

"And you did that for a living," Danny repeated, just to be sure.

"Yes."

"And then you decided to move to Denver and joined the ATF."

"No," Martin interrupted him. "It was.. well, I had moved around a lot, not really settling down anywhere. After the rangers I had sworn to myself that I would never again just blindly follow orders. I wanted to work alone. So that's basically what I did. When I came to Denver I had been hunting down this guy for weeks. I had planned to leave after a week or so – but then I met Chris and the boys. And the rest happened pretty fast."

They went silent for a few minutes and while Martin was thinking about his past, Danny tried to take it all in.

"One more thing," he kept going, "down at the lobby you told me that there was an accident. What kind of accident did you mean?"

Martin did not answer right away and when he did, he sounded like he was far away. "I don't remember much. But obviously I lost control over my bike and then… it's all kind of fuzzy from there."

Danny crossed his arms. "Mhm mhm – wait. You… you have a BIKE?!"

"Had," Maritn corrected, not quite catching the incredulous look an Danny's face. "According to the report, there was not much left…"

"You had a bike?!" Danny repeated, his voice louder now.

"Yes," Martin answered again, still not seeing the point.

"Oh come on," Danny huffed, "you were a bounty hunter, you had a bike? Next you are going to tell me you had a horse…"

When Martin didn't answer right away, Danny's eyes turned huge. Then he lifted his hands in mock surrender.

"No wait, please. I so do not want to know."

For a while, they stood next to each other, looking down at the town. The tension was not there any more and for a moment it felt like every normal day at work. It was one of the moments Danny knew why they worked so well together. Still, there were a lot of questions left. Danny decided to ask the one question that seemed the most important to him.

"Tell me, Martin… how much of Vin Tanner was real? I mean… was that really you? Or did you just make him up?"

Before Martin could answer, another voice spoke up from behind them. A cold voice.

"**Yes, tell him. Because I would like to know too." **

-----

"Hey," Vivian greeted Samanta when she arrived back at the office, the box with the security tapes from the airport in one hand, Eve McEcoy's calendar in the other. Samantha did not react but was instead just staring at her computer screen. Vivian frowned and walked over to her desk. "What's wrong?"

"You won't believe this," Sam whispered and pointed at the screen. "There's a file on Eve McEvoy."

Vivian's frown deepened. "Why? What did she do?"

"You were right," Sam went on like she hadn't heard. "Obviously she IS a hacker. About three and a half years ago, she hacked into the computer systems of several banks in Denver. Because she was fourteen back then, they could not do much about it, but she had to work social hours for about a year and was not allowed to get even close to anything resembling a computer for three years."

"That would explain why her calendar does not go very far back," Vivian caught on, looking at the small book in her hands.

"This is crazy," Sam whispered. "I mean - nothing of this makes any sense! Or is this just me?"

Vivian thought about that for a moment, then she shrugged. "I'll get these tapes to the techs, see if they can find out anything. We should contact Jack and the others as fast..."

In that moment, the phones in Jack's office and at Vivian's desk started ringing at the same time.

Vivian walked over to her desk to answer the phone, then she stopped in mid motion.

"What?" Sam asked, sounding alarmed.

"Van Doren," Vivian simply answered. Sam was out of her chair within seconds and hastily went to answer Jack's phone. A moment later she turned around and walked back towards Vivian, without even touching the still ringing phone. She was pale.

"It's Victor Fitzgerald's secretary."

----

To be continued

---

BWAHAHA! I know I am evil. I had so planned to finish the story with this chapter, but I did not have enough time for that. I know that there is again not much happening in this chapter - and I am SORRY!! But I promise to update soon. hugs to you all and MERRY CHRISTMAS!!


	6. Chapter 5

The ties that bind – Chapter Five

A word from the author:

You? Must so be hating me. Because it has been half a year. Seven months, to be exact. And I can not put into words how much that saddens me. But life has been a rollercoaster for me these past months. And between my parents seperating after 33 years of marriage (and that's a battle which is still raging), the death of my grandmother, the fact that the house of my parents (the one I grew up and lived in for more than 20 years) and my grandmother's house had to be sold and the difficult task of helping three family members move into new towns and apartments, I was exhausted, emotionally and physically. And after writing nothing at all for months, I had a hard time getting a feeling for it again, starting with small mood pieces in the weirdest of fandoms. But TTTB is my baby and will always be.

So. Here we are. And I really hope that at least a few of you are still with me on this journey.

A special greeting goes to AJ - you so kindly offered to beta this story - and I abandoned you and went into hiding from the world. I am so sorry. I am putting this online without sending it to you first and I am sorry for that too, but It's simply because I don't know how often I will be able to be online and that would just be unfair. I am hopeless. Please don't hate me :( Like chapter three, this one again was very difficult for me to write and I just wanted to get it done. Phew.

To the reviewers (and yes, I will always answer the reviews, it does not matter how much time has gone by.)

WE CRACKED THE TWENTY! I seriously love you guys. That is awesome.

So. Achem. Thank you for reviewing Chapter Four I was not really satisfied with it, simply because I wrote it in one go (ten pages without a break – that's a record for me) and had no time to really proofread it. If you haven't read "This is not the day" yet, go and do that, it's part of the TTTB – universe too hint hint Okay, you don't really have to do that because it's kind of a standalone, but still. /end of shameless advertisement.

Oh! mistx: I don't remember if I answered your review, I loved it About the motorcicle accident: there won't be any memory loss involved here (it has been done so many times before), but! I have been hiding tiny hints about it in the story already. If you click back to the beginning of chapter two snicker ...

DISCLAIMER: The Magnificent Seven and Without a Trace are not mine and I am writing this just for fun. Oh! And thank you MOG for creating the wonderful ATF universe which offers a myriad of possibilities for us fanfiction writers. The lyrics at the beginning are from the song "Never saw blue like that" by Shawn Collins, which I only slightly edited. And maybe I'll include a few quotes here and there. We'll see.

SPOILERS: Just the usual – this takes place somewhere half way through Season Two of Without a Trace. I don't know exactly when, but the whole Franco Reyes desaster from "A tree falls" has already happened. I don't know about Bonnie though. We'll see.

--------------------------------------------------

"_I can't believe_

_a month ago _

_I didn't know you_

_hadn't seen you_

_or heard your name._

…

_But some things are the way they are_

_and words just can't explain." _

----------------------------------------------------

Vivian walked over to her desk to answer the phone, then she stopped in mid motion.

"What?" Sam asked, sounding alarmed.

"Van Doren," Vivian simply answered. Sam was out of her chair within seconds and hastily went to answer Jack's phone. A moment later she turned around and walked back towards Vivian, without even touching the still ringing phone. She was pale.

"It's Victor Fitzgerald's secretary."

There was a moment of complete silence between both women. They looked at each other, knowing exactely what this meant. Time was running out. The moment went by in silence and Vivian's lips were set in a tight line. "I'll get Van Doren," she stated flatly, walking past Sam. "What about the AD's secretary?" Sam asked, pointing at the still rining phone. Vivian didn't even stop. "Let it ring. She's just going to tell us that Victor Fitzgerald is on his way here."

"Great," Sam muttered, staring at the ringing phone darkly.

At the same time, Vivian answerd the second rinning phone, activating the speaker at the same time.

"Johnson."

"What do you thing you are doing?"

Sam walked out of Jacks office and towards Vivian, frowning when she heard Van Doren's voice on speaker phone.

"Excuse me?" Vivian answered in an even tone, knowing very well she was treading on thin ice.

"Don't even try that," Van Doren shot back angrily. "First I find out that your team is still on the Derringer case which was officially taken over by the ATF - and that is difficult enough to handle as it is - and now I hear Victor Fitzgerald himself is interfering? How is he involved in this? And why was I not informed?"

"We are not working on the Derringer case," Vivian corrected her.

"Oh please," her superior huffed in the phone, "I already know that Jack and at least two other agents of your team are in Denver right now, following a lead on a case that they are no longer asigned to!"

"No, they are not," Vivian again interrupted her and Sam flinched next to her. "Right now we are searching for Eve McEvoy, who took a flight from Denver to New York about a week ago and has been missing since then."

For a moment there was silence. Then Van Doren took a deep breath. "Is this an official case? Has this woman been reported missing?"

Vivian cringed a little. "Not officially, no. At least not here."

"And are her whereabouts in some way connected to the Derringer case, Agent Johnson?"

Sam flinched again and held her breath, but Vivian was too much a professional to be impressed. "From a certain point of view yes, you could see it that way."

They could hear Van Doren sigh deeply. "There are going to be consequences, you know. If Jack or any other member of your team is purposedly provoking problems with other agencies, I can not protect them. You are officially overstepping your boundaries here."

Viivan squared her shoulders. "We are aware of that."

There was another uncomfortable silence. Sam was still worried, but to her surprise, Vivian looked pleased. She knew Van Doren well. The woman was tough and played by the rules, but when it came down to it, she was on their side.

"Just one more question," Van Doren finally spoke up again. "Why on earth is Victor Fitzgerald on the warpath? With everything going on, that is the last thing we need."

Vivian couldn't hide a grin. "I am not really sure, but it seems that he called Jack even before the Derringer case was officially taken over by the ATF, telling him to back off."

"What?" Van Doren sounded confused. "Why would he do that?" Sam crossed her arms and lifted an eyebrow, all the while staring at Vivian. Obviously, she wanted to know too. "I have no idea," Vivian simply answered and not even Sam was sure if was the truth or a direct lie. "But I am sure he will not hesitate to explain himself once he gets here."

To her surprise, Vivian heard Van Doren snort. "I doubt that, Agent Johnson. From what his secretary told me, he is not on his way here, but already on a flight to Denver."

Sam's eyes widened and her mouth formed a voiceless "Oh shit".

Even Vivian was at a loss for a moment. "Then...Jack will deal with the situation," she finally said.

"I sure hope so, Agent Johnson," Van Doren answered darkly. "For the sake of all of us, I do."

In the background, the phone in Jack's office finally stopped ringing.

---------------

For a while, Danny and Martin stood next to each other, looking down at the town. The tension was not there any more and for a moment it felt like every normal day at work. It was one of the moments Danny knew why they worked so well together. On a special, strange level, they understood each other. Still, there were a lot of questions left. Danny decided to ask the one question that seemed the most important to him.

"Tell me, Martin… how much of Vin Tanner was real? I mean… was that really you? Or did you just make him up?"

Before Martin could answer, another voice spoke up from behind them. A cold voice.

"**Yes, tell him. Because I would like to know too." **

--------

When it comes to friendships, time is an important factor. There is a certain amount of time a friendship can be kept alive, even against the weirdest odds. After a few weeks of not seeing each other, two friends can still catch up on all they have missed and go on like nothing happened. The same is possible after a year. Or maybe two. If those friends met again after more than ten years, such a reunion is usually by coincidence and the atmosphere is heavy with nostalgia and memories. All these possibilities hold the positive vibe of a friendship that is still alive and held dear.

But there are certain events or time periods that can put a strain on such a friendship - or even destroy it. After a certain point, there is no going back to the "good old days". If it comes to that, you find yourself in a place where there is nothing left to say - or at least nobody knows where to start. And this place is ugly and cold. There is nothing there except for uneasy stares, defensive stances and stubborn silence.

----------

From one moment to the next, Martin found himself with not only Danny standing right next to him demanding answers, but also confronted with Chris Larabee and Buck Wilmington, who both stared at him with their arms crossed, effectively blocking the path between Martin and the exit door to the stairs. If Martin had ever felt trapped in his life, it was right in that moment.

Chris tilted his head to the right slightly, his eyes cold. "Because you know," he started, his voice thick with sarcasm, "if you really are who you claim to be... this story is a little disappointing." He took a step towards Martin, but still kept his cool. "You ran away from home because you did not get along with your father?" he mocked, shaking his head. "That's it? Not very convincing."

Martin swallowed hard, his eyes darting back and forth between Chris, Danny and the door in the background. This was not what he had expected. This was bad. He had seen Chris like this before. Remembered it well. But usually, Chris had acted like that while questioning a suspect. Being at the receiving end of this glare and attitude was a totally different thing - and Martin found to his surprise that it was... scary.

NO.

No.

This was not how it was supposed to be. It had never been like this. Not between THEM. Was it possible that... he had been wrong all these years? That coming back here would have never worked out, whatever the circumstances? Looking at Chris now, he was close to believing it. He had never let that glare get to him. Not once. Not even when he might have deserved it. And he would not back away now. He had so hoped that coming here after all this time would finally make this urge to run, to leave everything behind go away. Sadly, that was not the case. Every instinct in him screamed at him to go for that door, to get away from there. Instead, he took a deep breath and finally turned to Chris, searching for something familiar in that cold green stare.

"Chris..." he whispered, swallowing hard. "I ... I don't know what to say."

To his surprise, Danny noticed that Martin's voice had changed from one moment to the next. It was much softer now, but at the same time a little rough around the edges. There was nothing left of the stubborn, green agent fresh from White Collar Danny had met those two years ago. He now sounded like someone who didn't talk much, but demanded attention whenever he did. And it was not only Martin's voice. The way he held himself had changed too.

"There's so much.." Martin started again, again with that silent voice.

"Shut up!" Chris barked back, interrupting Danny's thoughts and causing even Buck to flinch. "Don't act... like you know. Because you don't. You can't."

For a moment, Martin was shocked. Because as much as he tried to find that connection he had shared with Chris so long ago, he could not feel it. It was gone like it never existed. And the reason for that was simple: Chris refused to believe that it was really him. Could not accept it.

And Martin had to fight the urge to laugh bitterly. Because... in spite of the fact that they had been forced to walk down such different roads since that fateful night four years ago.. in the end, they had come to the same decisions. And one of these decisions had obviously been to build walls around themselves to keep the world away. To shut it out.

And knowing how stubborn Chris could be, how stubborn they both were - this situation was close to impossible to solve.

Of corse Martin remembered how things had been when he had first met Chris. Back then, there had been a wall between them, too, caused by various circumstances. And Martin had never understood where his unwavering will to crack that wall had come from. But back then, it had been different. They had not known him. He'd just walzed into their lifes out of the blue, finding friends where he had least expected them. They had given him the benefit of the doubt and he had taken that chance. But now?

Now, he was no longer a friend. He had turned his back on them, on Chris. He was here - but at the same time he wasn't.

And he never would be. Because he was not Vin Tanner. Not anymore. At least not the one these men - and especially Chris - remembered. Or was he?

"Answer the question," Chris ordered sharply, bringing Martin back to the situation at hand. "How much of Vin Tanner was real?" Still the voice was gold.

Oh God. Of corse Martin understood what Chris was trying to do. He - Vin, Martin, in the end it didn't matter - was the only person on this earth who was able to answer that question. It was a test. Think, damnit, Martin ordered himself. Think. Find something. Come up with the one thing Chris Larabee wants, needs to hear.

No.

They had never worked that way. They had never sugar-coated the truth or bent the facts to make things easier. Their friendship had been based on honesty. So there was only one possible answer to the question- and he just knew that this would not end pretty.

"Everything."

In the next moment, Chris' face turned into a mask of anger and it was Buck who held him back. At the same time Danny stepped between Chris and Martin, preventing any violent confrontation. Martin heard him bark something at Chris - Danny seemed to be immune to the Larabee-glare too, what a surprise - but could not make out exactely what. He heard Danny and Buck shout at each other at the top of their lungs, but it was all a blur. He did not really see Danny standing in front of him, shielding him. Instead he stared over Danny's shoulder, straight into Chris' eyes. Just like him, Chris seemed to ignore everything else.

Martin nodded to himself. If this is what it takes...

He closed his eyes for a moment, blocking out the commotion around him. He took a deep breath and tried to go to that place deep in the back of his mind he had avoided for so long. Too long. It was a calm, laid-back place, far away from the busy MPU office, the frantic search for missing people or the nerve-wrecking confrontations with his father. This place was not perfect, but to him it was as close to freedom and being himself as it could ever be. Going there, feeling what could have been and was now only a heartbeat away - and unreachable at the same time - was painful. When he had gotten on that plane to Denver he had known that it would eventually come to this. That he would have to cross this line in the sand, this possible point of no return. All rational thoughts inside him screamed in outrage, protested violently. Don't do it. It won't last, so don't do this to yourself.

But the decision had already been made when things got worse.

Around him, more voices spoke up, joined the shouting match that was violently bouncing back and forth on the rooftop. He took another breath, listened to his heartbeat that was now much slower than before. He felt himself leaning back, felt how the tension left his body.

"Danny, stop."

His voice was still silent like before, but more demanding, clearer. Still, the men around him ignored him and continued shouting about boundaries, authorities and consequences. A whole lot of big words. And what a load of crap.

He ignored it, zoned it out - and instead scanned his surroundings, took it all in stride. Danny right in front of him, shouting at Buck, who was still keeping his hold on Chris' arm. Jack somewhere to Martin's left, barking orders. Josiah and Nathan behind Buck, keeping their distance.

Another breath.

"Danny, BACK OFF!"

Every voice on the rooftop fell silent. The combatants froze. And Danny slowly turned around to Martin, shielding him from everyone else's eyes.

"What?" he slowly asked, dumbfounded.

Martin's eyes were still downcast and only a short, barely noticable jerk of his head to the right told Danny to move aside.

Danny frowned. This was not like Martin. Not at all. Of corse they had communicated without words in the past, it came with the badge and had slowly developed while they were out following leads in the streets. But it had never been like this. The whole body language was just wrong. Usually, Martin's stance kept a healthy amount of tension while on the job, always alert and driven to the point of perfection. His movements and gestures were clear, simple, easy to read. Behind you. Watch out. Wait. Combined with the occasional huff of impatience, an eyeroll or a smirk here and there, Danny had always managed to understand what Martin had tried to tell him.

But this?

Of corse the gesture was clear as day and he knew what he was expected to do. But the message behind it? The whole attitute? Was as far from the man he knew as possible. Stay out of this. Not your fight.

Confused, Danny still followed the unspoken order and took a step to Martin' s right side. Still, he kept close, ready to interfere if need be. Martin took a step forward, breathing deeply.

And finally, he looked up - and straight into Chris' eyes.

- This is between you and me.-

His hand still on Chris' arm, Buck felt a sharp intake of breath from his friend. And when he finally looked into the eyes of that FBI agent in front of him and realised what had caused Chris to flinch, he let go of the blonde man's arm as if burned - and just stared in disbelief. And so did the rest of the men around him.

"Jesus."

-----

The silence was deafening. Nobody moved.

Surprisingly, it was Danny who recovered first.

"What the hell is going on here?" he hissed, clearly seeing that something had happened, had changed in a split second. He was just not sure what that was. The heated arguement - okay, the screaming match - on the rooftop had come to a screeching halt out of nowhere when Martin had finally interfered. And then? Silence. Total silence. The ATF agents were still staring at the two men who were the center of everyone's attention. But exactely were they doing?

To any normal person, nothing had happened. Martin and that guy were just... staring at each other. Sizing each other up. But the ATF agents looked totally shocked, like something totally out of the ordinary had happened.

And slowly, one by one, they backed away. And none of them answered Danny's question.

Jack too was observing the situation carefully. They did not have time for this. Over the years on this job he had found that he had the ability to feel how much time they had - and right now there was not much left. Still, he knew somehow that this situation was important. For some reason he felt that it had to be solved before they could cooperate to work on this case together. So he would wait. Just a little while longer. His only hope was that Vivian and Sam would do their jobs and find something.

Out of the corner of his eye, Martin realized that Buck, Ezra and Josiah were backing away, giving them room. And even Jack seemed to retreat. Only Danny crossed his arms and glared at Jack, making it clear that he would not be going anywhere. Finally, he agreed to step back up to the railing, his eyes never leaving his friend.

Something had changed. In that split second, the whole atmosphere had changed immensly. A lot of the hostility was gone now, but Martin still could not breath easy. This was only the first step. And a lot of others would have to follow. He was feeling a bit lightheaded, but gritted his teeth against it. Now was not the time.

"I want to know one thing," Chris spoke up, still staring at him. "Did you... plan all that back then? Leaving without a trace? Was that why you asked for the two weeks off? So we would not notice?" Unwanted images of an empty, eerie apartment flashed through Chris' mind.

Martin felt himself go pale. His first instinct was to deny it vehemently - but that was just not true. He had never "planned" something like that to happen, but he had made plans to disappear after receiving that phonecall from Maddie. How could he have known that things would spiral so outragously out of control? So...

"No. At least... not like that." Chris' stare did not waver. It was obvious that this lame explanation was not enough for him. Martin bit his lip. He needed some common ground, somthing to start from.

"Then how?" Chris finally asked, his voice still tense. "That's the only thing we never found out. What happened?"

Martin nodded slowly. Of corse. It had taken him long enough to piece that night back together himself, so it was understandable they wanted to know.

"An accident," Martin finally answered. "With my bike. Don't remember much."

"When?" Chris shot back without missing a beat.

"The night after I left the office. I remember stopping at the appartment. I met Julius. Packed a few things. Left city limits. Then nothing." Chris crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing again.

"You packed? Why?"

"Needed some air," Martin tried to keep up, desperate to steer this question and answer game into another direction. But Chris was not another FBI agent. Or a suspect.

If it was possible, the green eyes narrowed even more. - Don't lie to me.-

Martin was so close to telling him that on that evening his sister Maddie had called to warn him. But this was not the right moment for that. Instead, he stared back at Chris, not backing away an inch. He mimicked Chris' stance, crossing his arms.

"We checked the hospitals," Chris finally hissed, "no match. Not even a John Doe. Nothing." Of corse they had. They had forced the nurses to wade through a weeks worth of emergency reports and files to be absolutely sure.

"But then again.." His eyes turned cold. "Of corse there was no John Doe found. Right?"

- Spill it. -

No, Martin thought desperately. Not now. He was losing ground - and that was not good. It was about time to end this tense questioning.

"I never meant for it to happen like that, Chris," he whispered.

Again Chris simply tilted his head. "You never meant for WHAT to happen?"

No no no. Think. Don't give up now. But as much as he tried, Martin was coming up blank.

Chris took a step towards him, sizing him up like he had never seen him before. And asked the one question Martin had feared the most.

"Who the hell are you?"

----

"Enough."

It was a simple, calmly spoken word, but in the silence on the rooftop it cracked like a whip. While the ATF agents and Danny turned towards Jack, Martin and Chris never broke eye contact.

"I said enough! Calm down, both of you."

Finally, he got through to them. Martin slowly turned towards him, surprised to see such a serious expression on Jack's face.

"I don't even want to try to understand what is going on here," Jack continued, his voice tense, "but we do not have much time. There is still a lot of work to do for all of us. Whatever this..." he gestured towards Martin and Chris, "... is, it will have to wait."

There was a moment of strained silence, but finally, Chris nodded. It was true. They had two cases to work on and it was important for them to cooperate. So he ignored Martin and turned towards Jack, ready to listen.

"Darlene McEvoy agreed to answer a few more questions," Jack explained, "after we mentioned the fact that we are looking for her daughter."

Chris nodded. "A DPD cop was the first on the scene when Agent Carsson was shot. He should be here in about an hour." Again they looked at each other - and to the others surprise, there seemed to be some kind of understanding between them - at least when it came to their jobs.

Slowly, the two teams walked towards the door to the stairs, keeping their distance. And while Martin was just feeling tired to the bone, Jack's mood was unreadable - and Danny? Walked next to Martin, as usual. But he was staring straight ahead, his jaw set in a tight line, his movements stiff. Martin flinched - he knew what that meant. His partner was barely keeping his temper in check.

Slowly, they made their way down the stairs and to the office. The office. Martin felt a weight on his shoulders. The office. He had not been in there since...

While the others walked into the office, Martin stayed in the background, delaying the inevitable just a little longer. To his surprise, he found someone leaning next to the door to the office, staring at him.

JD.

Martin felt his stomach lurch. Of all of them, it had to be JD. Staring at him with the same huge, bright eyes he remembered. No. They were not the same. Something had changed. Something important. Four years.

JD never left his place leaning against the wall.

"So it's really you, huh?"

There was no anger in his voice. No accusation of any kind. Just... something that was caught between sadness and fleeting disappointment. It was strange.

Finally, JD straightened up, looked him over. "Of all the things..." he mumbled, shaking his head - and Martin was not really sure what JD was referring to. But he did not dare to ask. The silence between them stretched, and this was wrong, so wrong it hurt. They had always gotten along so well, hit it off right from the start. And now? They were strangers. Four years. Four goddammed years and what had he been thinking?

JD turned around to enter the open office. Then he looked over his shoulder at Martin. And there was a bitter undertone in his voice.

"I know. I read your file. I know why."

For a moment, Martin was stunned. But before he could react, JD had walked into the office, leaving him standing there, not sure where to turn.

Finally, he followed him.

The atmosphere in the office was tense, but not overly so. Jack was talking to Chris, comparing information. Danny was standing closeby, next to Buck - and to Martin, that was a surprise, considering the shouting match on the rooftop. And for some reason, it made him angry. He as singled out, standing in the middle of this open office that was so familiar it made his skin crawl. His eyes wandered to the equipment room door, which was still plastered with post it- notes, just like he remembered. And then... the desk. HIS desk.

Jesus.

It was still there.

Unused.

After four years.

This was insane.

He again felt the urge to run, to hide somewhere and leave this nighmare.

In the same moment, Jack's cell phone started ringing.

Jack answered it, listened for a few seconds. Closed it. Took a deep breath. And turned towards his agents. "Things just got better." He eyed Martin carefully. "Victor is going to get on the next flight here. Just what we need."

Danny could not help but snort and shook his head in a helpless gesture. Martin simply stood there, breathing. Great. This was just great. Jesus, he had expected something like this, but he had hoped his father would give him at least a little more time.

"Who the hell is Victor?" Chris demanded, his paitence obviously running thin.

"Well," Jack started, but Martin interrupted him with a sharp "No." For a moment they stared at each other - and Martin only hoped that Jack would understand that this was not the right time for revelations like these. There was a moment of uneasy silence. And then Danny jumped in. He gestured towards Martin.

"His father."

And everyone stared at Danny in disbelief.

Jack, because he had not expected this at all. Not from Danny. Not when it concerned Martin.

Chris and the others, because the man they had once known had never mentioned a father to them.

And Martin... because this was Danny. His friend. Of all the people in this office, Danny should be the one who understood. But in this moment, Danny just stared back at him, an unmistakable challenge lingering in his eyes.

"What do you think you are doing?" Martin hissed, not really knowing where to direct his anger. Danny just crossed his arms. "Do you want me to tell them?"

Martin just stared at him in disbelief, cornered and angry and disappointed and... tired. He felt several pairs of eyes staring at him, demaning answers.

But then, it was Ezra who stepped forward, eyeing Martin carefully.

"Are we, by any chance, talking about Victor Fitzgerald?"

"What?" Chris asked sharply. "What do you know about this?"

JD stepped up next to Ezra, ignoring Chris. "As in Victor Fitzgerald, Assistant Director of the FBI?"

"WHAT?!"

Silence. Absolute, stunned silence. Martin just stood there, holding his breath, expecting the worst. He was clearly and the end of his rope, exhausted enough to simply wait what would happen. It did not matter anymore.

And then, something changed. It started with a small frown on Chris' face. His eyes narrowed. He took a step towards Martin. Looked at him. Really looked at him for the first time.

"Is this... what it was all about?"

It was a simple, clear question. And yet, it was so much more. Martin dared to look up into the eyes of the man he once called his best friend.

- Because if it is... -

---------------------------------------------------------------

To be continued

-----------------------

ACK! I know this is short. But right now, it is thunderstorm season here where I live and after getting soaked to the bone in the rain on three days in a row, I have a murder cold and the ear infection of doom to top it all of. Meaning that I can not breath through my nose and my right ear is totally deef and hurts like hell. BUT! I already have plans how to continue. Oh yes, I have. And this time, I am not going to forget about the casefile.

Comment about the chapter: I am beginning to wish I could kick those two idiots. I mean - I could just skip all this and dish out a happy ending. But... that would be just WRONG. I am weird, I know.

And to prevent all misunderstandings: I love Danny. Really, I do. He's one of the characters who still makes WAT worth watching. And because I love him, I think he would have reacted like that on that rooftop, digging his heels in and staying close.

AND! Did someone catch that Chris made a pun? Unintended, of corse. Poor cowboy, he will never know :)


	7. Chapter 6

The ties that bind – Chapter Six 

A word from the author:

Okay everyone, hold on to your hats. (And oh my god, I managed to sneak in a WAT quote! If you know from which episode it is, you get a cookie :) ) While during chapter four and five, the focus was more on Martin and the two teams, here I am picking up the actual case file. Like crazy. Chapter six is a lot longer than the previous two and will bombard you with (more or less) usefull information and a lot of details. You have been warned :)

Oh! I almost forgot: ERROR: In chapter two, Gabe Kincaid states that Milo Derringer disappeared from prison "Two days ago" - of corse it should have been two weeks. My mind was jumping back and forth between facts and I confused them. So, that is overall Oops No 4. My mind was obviously not really functioning while I wrote that chapter. All the mishaps, I am sorry. Once this story is complete, I will rewrite some parts, get rid of all the errors and post the whole thing in one final chapter. I promise.

The usual disclaimers and spoiler warnings apply. Lyrics from "If I ever lose my faith" by Sting.

And one last warning: It is VERY likely that there are a lot of typos in this. I mean, more than usual. That's because I had to sell my computer and am now writing on a laptop instead. And it is DRIVING ME CRAZY. This keyboard is torture.

Addendum: I wrote a little something for the TTTB - readers in my lj - so if you are interested in pointless trivia about this story, go here: http://users. :)

--------------------------------------------

"If I ever lose my faith in you  
There'd be nothing left for me to do."

----------------------------------------

Samantha Spade sighed.

She had a headache, her eyes were burning - she was tired. But after the good news that Victor Fitzgerald was "on the warpath" - and really, she could not come up with a better term for that - Vivian and Sam had decided to go through every tiny detail of the case again, trying to find the little piece of information they missed. Eve McEvoy was still nowhere to be found, her father had called several times to make sure the team was working on the case, stating that he had not been able to contact his ex-wife about it. Which was weird as it was. Sam frowned. She knew that a divorce was never easy and sometimes could turn a life into a battlefield, but a missing child was more than serious. Right, Eve McEvoy was eighteen and no longer a minor - and maybe she did not want to be found for some time. And with a mother out of reach in Denver and an overly protective and worried libarian in New York, who knew? And Van Doren was right about one thing: officially, Eve McEvoy had not been called in missing yet, so they were not working on an official case. That was another tricky point. If she left everything else aside, the team - including her - was just being stubborn and held on to a case that was no longer theirs. But Jack was right. Too many things did not add up - something was defenitely wrong with this...well.. case.

So it could very well be that Eve McEvoy was just a stubborn young woman who used the opportunity of a trip to NY to get away from her life for awhile. The only unusual thing about it was that she left most of her luggage at the airport. David Foley on the other hand was close to a mental breakdown over all this and had already promised them to try everything he could to reach Eve's mother. And if that was not possible, he would report her missing. And since there were no new cases at the moment...

And there was another point. Martin. She frowned. He had been acting strange ever since they had started working on the case. Danny seemed to be in on it to a certain extend - if his grins and snide remarks were anything to go by. And if Vivian knew something about that - or at least suspected something - she did not share. Sam twirled a pencil around in her hand. It just wasn't fair. Whatever it was that was going on there, she felt left out.

Focus, she chided herself. Concentrate on your work. With a sigh, she took another look at the timeline, checking her watch. Techs should get back to her any minute now. Calling the bookstore had been kind of a last straw, since the ATF in Denver was kind of stonewalling when it came to information about their agents or other certain facts. She snorted. Talk about your side of the fence. It was ridiculous.

Everything about this case was confusing. Sam stared at the time table, gnawing on the pencil.

Two weeks ago: Derringer disappears from prison, in spite of the fact that he would have been taken into witness protection a few days later anyway. Strange.

Three days later: Derringer obviously arrives in New York, renting a room, using the name Derning. Not very original. Maybe Martin was right and the guy was an idiot. But why would Martin know that? She tried to ban that thought from her mind for now.

Another three days later: Eve McEcoy gets on a plane to New York, arrives, but leaves her luggage at the airport and disappears. All she takes with her is her bag containing her personal stuff, including a laptop. Her calendar - which she left behind - is full of math calculations or something the like. And then there was the fact that a few years earlier she had hacked into the computer networks of several banks in Denver. Nice.

For almost a week nothing happens.

Then, two days - Sam checked her watch. Make that three days, she corrected herself. Anyways. Three days ago: ATF agent Bailey Carsson is shot in front of the apartment building he lives in. No further information on that end what so ever. She could only hope Jack and the others would find a way to make those stubborn ATF guys talk.

Another day later: Arnold Stark reports one of his tenants - "Michael Derning" missing, simply because he did not show up to pay his rent. That was another weird fact.

So they had decided to go to the bottom of this, starting out with Stark.

The man was in his late fifties, not very tall, but surrounded by an air of constant worry. Being asked to walk into an FBI building to answer questions obviously was not his idea of a good start for a day.

"I already told you," he sighed, massaging his temples, "this guy - Derning, or whatever his name is - rented the room, end of story. Didn't see him that often, he ordered a lot of food in, never really left the room."

Vivian observed him carefully, folding her hands on the desk between them.

"Please, calm down. You are not a suspect here, " she tried to assure him. "But we are looking for a missing young woman, and Mr. Derning could be involved in a way, or know something about her whereabouts."

She had already shown him pictures of Derringer and Stark had positively identified him.

Something about Stark changed, his serious and unnerved features turned softer.

"A missing girl, huh?" he asked silently, obviously worried - again.

"Yes," she nodded. "So I want to know one thing: was there something strange about Mr. Derning?"

To her suprise, Stark snorted. "You could say that. He was... I don't know." He shrugged. "Weird. Seemed out of place. It's not the best neighborhood, you know. I mean, the building is clean, the people are nice and quiet, everything's alright at that end, mind you. But... this guy was just different. And there was something else..." He pondered that for a moment. "He seemed... giddy. You know? Like there was something he really needed to do or some place he needed to be. He did not seem to be like the man who would stay in one place for long, see? That's why I collected the rent early. Didn't want him to disappear on me."

When Vivian finally dismissed Stark, she walked over to Sam, who was on the phone. She lowered the receiver to listen to Vivian. Vivian crossed her arms. "It's strange, you know?" she began, referring to Stark. "He just doesn't strike me as the type of guy to be drunk at ten in the morning when he is supposed to collect the rent. He worries about everything. Keeps an eye out."

Sam only answered with a soft hum - she was holding pictures in her left hand and was obviously eager to share what she had found. Vivian frowned and grabbed the pencil Sam was nervously twirling around in her other hand. If Sam had notived, she did not react.

"I got something" , she stated instead. She took a red marker from Vivian's desk and walked towards the time table on the board. "Remember David Foley?"

"Darlene McEvoy's depressed librarian - ex-husband, of corse." Despite herself, Sam had to grin when Vivian summed it up like that. Then she turned serious again.

"Well, he's obviously not only depressed, but also a liar." She walked over to the point on the timeline that marked the day Bailey had been shot. "Foley told us that he worked double shifts in the book store all week because a co-worker had called in sick."

Vivian lifted an eyebrow. "And that's not true?"

"It is," Sam answered. "His co-worker, Rose Vaughn, actually called in sick at the beginning of the week, so that part is true." She checked one of her notes. "I called her and she's still on sick leave."

"But?" Vivian fished, not sure where this was going.

Sam grinned. "While you were checking Eve McEvoy's luggage, I called the book store, asking for a security tape of the day Carsson got shot. It was a bit difficult, but techs just got back to me." She waved the photos around and then pinned one of them to the board. It showed the small book store, a few customers and a slender woman behind a counter. "And these..." she put two more pictures next to the first, ".. are from the next day." They were similar to the first.

Vivian took a step closer and frowned.

"Well, I am almost sure that this is not Mr. Foley."

Sam snorted. "Unless he's into cross dressing, it isn't. It's Rose Vaughn."

Vivian sighed. "So she was not sick."

"At least she was not at home. So basically, our depressed librarian ex-husband has turned into a potential suspect."

Vivian nodded darkly. "Call him in. I'll try to get a hold of Rose Vaughn. Whatever is going on, she's in on it."

After a moment of silence, she turned towards Sam again. "You know, for some reason I think that Eve McEvoy is the key to all this. Ryan from techs is working on the information in her calendar. Eve is a hacker, maybe she left hints there."

Sam nodded, taking notes. Then she tilted her head to the side. "What about Bailey Carsson? What is the connection there? And why the hell do we not get any information from the ATF in Denver? It would make things a lot easier. I mean," she frowned, "maybe it's just me, but I think all this started four years ago, when Derringer was arrested."

----------------------------------------------------------

Silence. Absolute, stunned silence. Martin just stood there, holding his breath, expecting the worst. He was clearly and the end of his rope, exhausted enough to simply wait what would happen. It did not matter anymore.

And then, something changed. It started with a small frown on Chris' face. His eyes narrowed. He took a step towards Martin. Looked at him. Really looked at him for the first time.

"Is this... what it was all about?"

It was a simple, clear question. And yet, it was so much more. Martin dared to look up into the eyes of the man he had once called his best friend.

- Because if it is... -

Against better judgement, Martin grinned sadly. - You have no idea. -

Danny frowned, looking back and forth between Martin and Chris. "What the hell..."

Next to him, Buck leaned forward a bit. "Easy. This is a good sign, believe me." And he was sure it was. After all the tension, there finally seemed to be a connection between the two. Of corse this brought on a lot of new questions - like the one Chris had asked only minutes ago. Who was this man? Was he Vin Tanner? Was he an FBI agent? Had he maybe been an FBI agent all along? Even back then? Everything seemed possible now.

And what was this about the AD of the FBI? How did this guy fit into all this? And why would Ezra know about that? Scratch that, Buck chided himself. Of corse he knows things like these. And JD? JD had surprised him the most in this little scene. Ever since Vi - Martin Fitzgerald had appeared, JD was silent, observing the situation instead of barging right in like he usually did. Buck had noticed JD waiting outside the office a few minutes ago and if Buck was right, JD had used the opportunity to talk to Fitzgerald. Or whatever his name was. So this here right now was the first time in hours that JD had actually spoken up or interfered. It was not surprising that he knew about the connection to Victor Fitzgerald - it was very likely that he already knew Martin Fitzgerald's file by heart. But why hadn't he said anything earlier?

Only a few steps away Martin desperately tried to think of something to say. So Ezra knew about his father. No. He knew who Victor Fitzgerald was. How, Martin did not want to know. JD on the other hand had already told him that he "knew why".

Okay, so tell them. Tell them why the AD of the FBI is on his way to Denver.

"We..." he slowly stated, "...are officially off this case. We are not even supposed to be here."

Chris frowned for a moment - that was not what he had expected. They had just found out that the man they had once known as Vin Tanner was actually the son of the Asisstant Director of the FBI. As ridiculous and outragous as that was, it explained a lot. It did not really justify anything, but it helped, because now they were able to catch a first glimpse of the inevitable "why". And now what? They were back to formalities?

"So?" Chris asked sharply, crossing his arms. - Not really what I want to hear. -

"Chris?" Nathan slowly lowered his cell phone. All eyes turned towards him - no one had even heard the phone ringing.

"That was the hospital - looks like Carsson is going to make it."

He hesitated for a moment to let the information sink in. It made the members of team 7 breathe a lot easier - not only because Carsson was one of their own. Now the attempt on Carrsons life would be just that. An attempt. Not a murder.

"And," Nathan added with a relieved smile, "he is awake."

Chris took a deep breath, feeling a lot lighter now. Now they could finally get to work. He exchanged a short glance with Jack, who was already on the phone.

"Okay guys," Chris started, "we've got work to do. Darlene McEvoy will be coming in to answer some more questions, that's MPU territory. The DPD cop who was first on scene after Carsson was shot at," he checked a file in his hands, "is a Thomas Lindt. He should be in shortly, too. JD? I want you to go through every tiny detail of the Derringer case again. Don't look at me like that. It's just a hunch, but I think there is something there we just overlooked. Josiah? I know it's a lot to ask, but I want you to check back with Travis - we need to find out where Simms is hiding. I've got a few questions to ask him. And we better let him know that Carsson's not on his deathbed anymore. But wait before you tell the rest of team 9. I want to talk to Carsson first."

With that, he turned to get his jacket. In that moment, Jack stepped forward, lowering his phone. "The alibi of Darlene McEvoy's ex - husband for the night Carsson was attacked doesn't hold. I need to know if he left New York at that time, booked any flights."

JD perked up. "No problem, I'll check it out!"

Ezra sat down at his desk and leaned back. "As glad as I am that we are finally making progress, may I ask how we are going to deal with the fact that the Assisstant Director of the FBI is on his way here?"

Chris saw Martin flinch out of the corner of his eye, then checked his watch. "Well, I'd say we still have a few hours before he's here. And if he's early," he grinned evilly at Ezra, "you seem to be the perfect man for the job. Since you know him and all."

Ezra visibly paled. "You can not be serious."

-------

Only a short time later, Danny found himself still in the open ATF office, the only other agents present being that computer kid - JD?- and Buck Wilmington. Somehow Jack had managed to make Danny stay behind to question Darlene McEvoy again, and since Buck already knew her, he'd ben the second unlucky agent asigned to that task. Unlike Danny, who had just growled to himself, Wilmington had made it very clear that he didn't like it. Not that it had helped them any.

And now? They were still here, waiting for Darlene McEvoy to arrive.

Danny took the time to take a better look at his surroundings. The office itself was a lot less cold and unpersonal than theirs in New York. Every desk was "decorated" with personal belongings of the agents and he found to his amusement, that it was not very difficult to find out which desk belonged to whom. It was obvious that for these agents, their work was a huge part of their lives - and they had obviously decided to take it in stride and make the best of it. He saw countless pictures on the walls, post-it notes, holiday cards and printouts of emails. One of the desks was surrounded by plants, another was littered with document folders, magazines, pens and various other things he could not really make out from the distance. The desk next to that seemed more organized, the documents neatly stashed away or folded, piled up next to each other. The coffee cup next to that seemed expensive. Mhm.

He noticed another desk in the far corner of the room, next to a door. That desk looked like it had not been used for a long time. For some reason Danny felt a lumb in his throat upon seeing it and turned away. He was distracted soon enough when JD emerged from what had first seemed to be a storage room, but was obviously a kitchen, since the man was carrying a tray with food. No, Danny corrected himself. Two trays. Before he knew what was going on, he was holding one of the trays himself and stared at the vast amount of food piled up on it. He could make out bagles, a donut and several other sweets in weird colors. And he was sure that even if this building HAD a cafeteria, this wasn't on the menu. He snorted. At least he would not starve. "Thanks," he offered, not able to hide a grin. He pulled an office chair up to the kids desk and was greeted with a coffee cup that had somehow emerged out of nowhere. He shook his head, still smiling. Maybe this place wasn't so bad after all.

"Hey, what about me?" Wilmington protested from his desk.

JD just snorted. "You know where everything is. Go get it yourself."

Danny frowned, trying to find out what was going on with that kid. While Wilmington was surrounded by an air of tension, worry and a general unease since they had showed up in Denver (and Danny still wasn't sure what that was about), the kid was a mystery to him. His chaotic desk made it obvious that he was not a shy person in general, more the opposite. And the way he came to life as soon as he was asigned to a task indicated that the way he was acting right now - reserved, quiet, keeping in the background - was out of the ordinary. Was this in some way connected to Martin? Hah, Danny thought . Who are you trying to kid? All of this is connected to Martin. Or whatever his real name was.

During the next few minutes, Danny watched in awe how the kid ate his way through a huge amount of sweets in the most outragous colors while at the same time working on his computer like it was nothing.

"Now I get it," Danny mumbled to himself, the whole scenario reminding him of somebody else he knew.

"Huh?" JD looked up, a half-eaten donut still in his hand.

Danny smiled. "Nothing. It's just that... I've always wondered. Now I know."

JD frowned, letting the miserable donut sink down onto his desk where it joined more leftover food. "Could you stop talking in riddles?"

Out of nowhere, Buck Wilmington reappeared, getting comfortable in an office chair next to JD's. "You talking about.." he hesitated for a moment, thinking about the right approach. "... Fitzgerald?"

Danny blinked, then nodded. "Martin. Yeah."

An uneasy silence settled over the usually busy office and Danny saw the kid's eyes glance at the vacant desk in the far back of the office. Danny tilted his head in the general direction of the unused office desk. "That his?"

JD swallowed hard. "Used to be. A long time ago." His voice was even, almost cold. Danny flinched inwardly. Ouch.

After another moment of hesitation, Wilmington spoke up. "What did you mean when you said that you "always wondered"? What was that about?"

Danny smirked. "Food. That's the only thing about him that always made me wonder." He waited another moment for good measure and looked at the two ATF agents. Wilmington just sat there, keeping an eye on the kid. It seemed like he was waiting for JD's reaction. When Danny saw at least a bit of hidden curiosity in the computer expert's eyes, he smiled again. Maybe it was a start. At least it was a way to find out more about the mystery that Martin had turned into during this trip. So it was worth a try.

"Cheeseburgers at ten in the morning. Cereals. At any time of the day. Sweets. And don't get me started on the coffee."

For moments, nothing happened, then, slowly, a shy smile appeared on JD's face and he turned towards Buck. "Sounds familiar," he whispered, like he had just encountered a great secret.

Finally, Buck smiled too. "Yeah, has a familiar ring to it." Then he turned towards Danny. "Stress eater?"

Danny snorted. This was easier then he had expected. "You bet. There was this one time when Sam, one member of our team was taken hostage. We were monitoring the whole thing, trying to figure something out - and he started eating a sandwich. Even offered me one."

This time, JD even snickered. "I can almost see it." For a moment his eyes were vacant and he seemed to be far away.

Then: "Not the tie though. Where did he get that thing? It's horrible."

Danny lifted his hands in mock surrender. "You don't have to tell ME. I'm the one who has to look at those every day." Another silence settled in. Then, out of the blue, another thought occured to Danny. "He's a damned boy scout."

Buck grinned. "Helpin' the helpless? Like nice old ladies, kids? That'd be Vin. Jesus, he's a big kid himself." He blinked, like he had given away too much and leaned back. "Was," he added a second later, taking a deep breath. Again there was silence and Danny was not sure if this had been such a good idea after all. Maybe he should just leave it be.

Then, finally, JD spoke up, but his voice was silent and it was not sure who he was talking to.

"It just that... it's so hard to believe. He's... a totally different person. It's not just the clothes...and the hair..."

At this point Danny made a mental note to ask about "The hair" later. There was defenitely something going on there. But right now he wanted to hear this.

"It's more like... there's a wall, you know?" JD sighed, looking at Buck like seeking for help, then he sighed. "When I talked to him today... he just wasn't... really there." Another helpless sigh. "He never really talked much about himself. He never talked much period. But he never ... when you talked to him, that was HIM, you know? The real deal."

It was clear that he could not really find the words he was looking for. Still, Danny understood. That wall... he'd seen his fare share of that himself. During last two years since he'd met Martin, he had rarely seen the man really relax, even on a day off. He always seemed driven, but by what and why was not always clear. Of corse there was his father with all his expectations, but now that he thought about it, Danny realised that Martin had obviously tried to show them just a certain side of himself and carefully hid the rest.

The real deal? Well, Danny added bitterly in his mind, at least that was what he had thought. His own serious face was mirrored by Buck and JD and Danny realised that they were thinking the same thing.

Danny took a deep breath. "You are still not sure if it's really him." It was not a question.

"It is," JD answered without missing a beat, looking surprised at his own reaction a second later. Then he nodded to himself, his voice calm again. "It is. It's just not... he's changed. A lot."

Danny leaned back a bit and thought about the Martin Fitzgerald he had come to know. The little things here and there that he had always wondered about and that just hadn't made sense. But now? It was still confusing as hell, but to his own surprise he found that he liked the idea, the character Vin Tanner - and that he would love to meet him one day.

He smiled. "Not as much as you'd think."

JD was about to object, but in that moment Josiah walked into the room. "McEvoy and Lindt are here. And the lady is all yours." He gestured towards Danny and Buck.

Buck made a face. "Anybody know where Ezra slithered off to?"

-----------------------------------

Breathe.

Take even, slow breaths.

No time for a panic now.

Vin Tanner took a long, sad look around his appartment, the place he had called home for the last three years. He smiled weakly. How long had it taken him to finally find the courage to really settle in? He had kept his stuff in his bag for weeks after moving in. Always waiting for the one thing, the one turn of events that would eventually force him to grab his stuff and leave. Like it had been so many times before.

But this time it was different. This time he was not following a lead on some bail jumper. This time he had a real reason to leave - as fast as possible.

The bust today had gone terribly, horribly wrong - but maybe that was just what he needed. It sounded cruel, but after a desaster like that it was more understandable if he just handed in his resignation and left.

Of corse he had not done that. He had not officially resigned. No, if he really wanted to do this, leaving something official behind would not be a good idea. And he knew Travis well. The man would have called Chris and the boys in no time, demanding an explanation why a team member was dropping out so suddenly.

And then? His friends would be here in no time, barging in like the god damned boy scouts they all were, searching for him everywhere. They would do that eventually.

He felt a twinge of hurt in his heart - it was not fair. It was so unfair he did not even know how to describe it. They would hate him. That was for sure. Hell, he hated himself already.

JD would not understand. He would ask questions over and over, but he would not really understand. He was smart, so smart - but there were still some things he did not know how to deal with - and Vin hoped that he would never have to learn.

Josiah would probably just keep silent - his mind trying desperately to come up with answers.

Nathan would try to calm them down, stating the obvious - which was often necessary with this team - using logic to get through this mess.

Vin cringed. He could already see Buck fuming, trying to calm JD down while shouting at everyone to god damn do something now.

And Chris... no, Vin cringed again. Not going there. Defenitely not going there. Guilt was a vicious little bastard and he would carry around enough of that soon. So he shyed away from that thought the best he could.

There was one who was most likely to understand, though.

Ezra.

For a long time, both Vin and Ezra had been kind of the outsiders of the team. Not really settling in, ready to leave and disappear if need be. Vin had never told Ezra about his past, but they had somehow, without ever voicing it, found that they were a lot alike. They both had lived more than just one life in their past.

So it was very likely that Ezra would understand. That he would understand that something came up. And maybe he would explain that to the others. Vin sure hoped so.

So now you do what? Grab your stuff and disappear? Just like that?

Vin sighed. It was better this way.

Better?

Vin snorted sarcastically. Better then what?

Well, look at it this way. You have just bought yourself some time. Facing off Chris like that and demanding two weeks off had been dangorous - but in the end, it had worked out just as he had planned - no, expected it.

And now here he was, his mind racing a mile a minute. He needed a plan. He needed time. Chris was most likely fuming and would not contact him for two, maybe three days. Maybe even longer. So that was the small window of time Vin was dealing with.

Again he stared at the cell phone in his hand. The cell phone no one ever called except for the boys or his kids here. There was only one person who knew this number too.

And this person was calling him again in this very moment.

"Hey."

Her voice was hushed, strained. Like it had sounded just a day before.

"Hey," Martin answered weakly, not really sure what to say. She obviously felt the same, but recovered quickly.

"Where are you now?"

"At the apartment."

There was a long, strained silence during which Martin decided wether he wanted her to know or not. But then again, she was his only ancor right now, the only person he could talk to.

"I'm leaving. I have no idea how or... but I... I can't stay here."

He heard her sigh. "I thought so. Listen, Martin, you have no idea how sorry I am. I know this is not my fault, but..:"

"You are damn right it isn't!" he interrupted her sharply, regretting it immediately. He was nervous, angry and sad. His life had taken another crazy turn and if there was anyone to blame it sure as hell wasn't her.

"Like I said," she went on calmly, totally ignoring his outburst, "I know that. But I could have called you sooner. I overheard dad on the phone a few days ago - and he was already talking about Denver back then. He knew. And I should have thought faster."

Martin slowly shook his head. He could almost see her, standing in her room, leaning on wall next to the door. In that huge house. That house. It had always made them feel small.

"Just... don't do anything stupid okay?" She sighed again. "You don't have much time, I know that. But still. You have talked to them, haven't you? They know, right?"

Oh god. How was he supposed to answer that question? Sorry sis, but I was too scared to tell them? He closed his eyes tightly, begging for some kind of idea to help him out. This was so not like him, he knew that.

"Martin?"

"No," he blurted out before he could stop himself. "I mean... Jesus. I couldn't just..."

For a moment there was silence.

"So they don't know."

Martin cringed. She was smart, even in a situation like this. Now he was forced to explain himself.

"I...no. It's better to leave while I still have time."

"Martin!" now her voice was sharp. "Is this how you want to deal with this? You just go and leave, without a word, an explanation? I never met your friends, but shouldn't you do.. I don't know. Something?"

"No." He sighed. "They would... they would find out in no time. And then all hell would break loose. You know Dad."

There was another moment of silence. Finally, his sister was the first to break it.

"So, where are you going to go?"

He snorted. Good question. He had not thought that far. It was weird. Only three years ago, he would just have grabbed his stuff without thinking, leaving without regrets. But now? Somehow six crazy guys and a job he liked - loved! - had changed everything.

"I have no idea. I think I'll just... have to wait and see."

He could almost hear her smile. "Aren't they going to look for you?"

He swallowed hard. Of corse. Hell, they'd probably drive everyone crazy. It still amazed him - he had never had friends like that.

"Yeah. Probably." And that was the understatement of the century.

Somehow after that the conversation died down and both seemed to feel that all was said for the time being. She knew him well and would never ask him to come home. To her, he had never run away from home, but instead decided to live his own life. Sadly, he still felt guilty and would probably feel that way for a long time.

"I'll keep in touch."

"I know."

------

Martin blinked.

A short look out of the window told him that they would be at the hospital in a few minutes. Had he fallen asleep? Not good.

After another phonecall from Sam, Jack had agreed that the attack on Bailey Carsson somehow tied into the whole mess and that it would be best to cover all bases. So Danny stayed at the ATF building to interview Darlene McEvoy while Jack joined Chris Larabee on his way to the hospital. Martin had been at a loss for a moment, but had finally decided that he didn't really care, as long as he got out of that office for a while. He could have dealt with the place itself, but having those men he had once called friends (and still did) staring at him all the time was too much.

When they finally left the car and walked towards the entrance area of the hospital, he realized that not only Jack and Chris were there, but that at some time Nathan had joined them too. Martin cursed himself mentally. How was it possible that he hadn't noticed?! You really need sleep.

Not much later a doctor stopped them. Chris explained to her who they were and that they needed to talk to Bailey Carsson. She was obviously not impressed. "This is an ICU, not an interrogation room. I already told that other agent that agent Carsson is barely awake and on heavy pain medication, so he won't be of much help anyway. I only allowed the visit because agent Carrson doesn't have a family. But he's in no condition for..."

"Now wait a second," Jack interrupted her. "What other agent? Who is in there?!"

At the same time, Chris and Nathan had already made their way past her and stared through the window into the room Bailey Carsson was resting in.

Chris cursed through his teeth and opened his cell phone, suddenly feeling very tired.

"Josiah? Forget about Simms. He's here."

"What do you guys think you are doing?" the doctor hissed, ignoring the fact that she was in a hospital. "I don't care who you are, go ahead and wave your badges around all you want. I want you to leave right now, or I'll call building security."

Before Chris could answer, Jack spoke up.

"Listen doctor..." he quickly checked her nametag, "... Macer. Of corse we are here to see Bailey Carsson, and we know about his condition. But right now, we really need to talk to agent Simms, who is in that room with agent Carsson. Would that be possible?"

She crossed her arms and thought about it for a moment. "Alright," she finally said, still sounding angry. "You can go in. But I am going to watch you. If I ask you to leave, you will leave. Understood?"

She took a few steps back, still staring at them. Slowly, Chris opened the door and stepped into the hospital room, followed by Jack. Nathan stayed with Macer, planning to talk to her about Carsson's condition. Maybe that would buy them some time.

Martin stayed behind too, leaning in the door.

Bailey Carsson.

"_Yeah, right, I can see him. Looks like Simms sent Carsson up here. Sits on top of that stupid hardware store to your right. Won't hit a thing from that angle."_

He flinched, willing the voices of his past to disappear. Four years. And yet, looking at that man, it seemed like not a day had gone by. He looked older. Tired. But he still had those huge, brown eyes that made him look younger than he was. At the moment those eyes were only half open. And they were looking at - Joseph Simms.

Jesus.

All of a sudden it was hard to breathe.

Simms looked up but didn't really seem to notice anyone. Anyone but Chris. He stared at Chris without a word. But the hostility was clearly visible on his face. Under other circumstances, Martin would have grinned at the sight. Obviously some things never changed.

Chris and Simms did not exchange any kind of greeting, but instead turned towards Carsson, who was barely awake and blinked owlishly at them.

"Wow," he whispered and Simms immediately leaned in closer to listen. "H..how much of that stuff did they give me?"

To Martin's surprise, Simms grinned. So he was human after all. "Probably a lot," the leader of team 9 answered, waving a hand in front of Carsson's face. "Why, you seeing any pink elephants?" The younger agent didn't even blink but stared over Simm's shoulder. A weak grin appeared on Carsson's tired face. "No," he answered, his voice slightly slurred and uneven. "Even better. M' seeing Tanner - and somebody cut is god damned hair."

Simms' eyes narrowed and he turned around to see what his agent was staring at. And while Carsson had already slipped back into uncouciousness - or sleep, whichever came first - , Simms looked like he was ready to kill someone.

"Tanner?" he whispered. "Vin Tanner?"

A few hours earlier Martin would have panicked. But right now, he was too tired and irritated to even be angry.

-You want to kill me? Grab a ticket and get in line.-

And was that his imagination or had he really heard Chris snort behind Simms' back?

Upon seeing that the situation was getting tense (or at least it looked like that) in the room, Nathan turned towards doctor Macer, telling her that he was in fact a trained EMT and asked her about Carsson's condition.

To Nathan's surprise, she snorted. "His condition? Let me tell you one thing: when I first saw him, I was sure he was already dead. It was messy and he lost a lot of blood. The shot was fired from a short distance. But for some reason - and I will never understand how that is possible - he was lucky and no vital organs were damaged. You know how they say that from a certain distance, even an idiot won't miss? Agent Carsson's condition is proof that it is possible."

Nathan thought about that for a moment. "So you think that it could have been an accident?" She crossed her arms. "I am sure about that, agent Jackson. I've seen my share of gunshot wounds. And to miss like that from such a short distance? Takes one hell of a diversion."

Then she frowned and tried get past Nathan.

"Hey, what the hell is going on in there..."

------

"He called me. Said that something came up. And that's it."

Rose Vaughn, a fragile looking woman of 28, raked a hand through her brown, curly hair and glared at Vivian, huffing impatiently. The desk they were sitting at was already littered with used tissues - the woman seemed to carry around a countless amount of those. If she was not using them to clean her glasses (which she seemed to do all the time), she sneezed into them. It was clear as day that she was suffering from the mother of all colds. And Vivian felt almost sorry for her. Almost.

When Rose Vaughn had first stepped into the huge open office of the MPU, she had seemed shy, amost scared. But not for long. As soon as Vivian had mentioned David Foley, the woman had become angry and impatient.

"So he asked you to come to work because he had to do what?" Vivian tried again. rose Vaughn sneezed loudly - but that did not stop her rant.

"I don't know, okay? I was on sick leave for god's sake! I still am, in case you haven't noticed. He said that it was some kind of family emergency and that he had to leave right away. And then? He just disppears and doesn't come to work for two days in a row! I came so close to searching for him myself, if just to kill him for that!"

She sniffled and blinked. Then she blushed. "That...I didn't mean to say that. Okay? I would never kill anyone. Jesus, I didn't want to say..."

"Miss Vaughn!" Vivian cut hin, her patience finally snapping. "I understand. You are angry. And I can see why. But I need you to concentrate. Did David Foley say anything about this "family emergency"? Did he mention his daughter?"

Rose Vaughn was already searching her backpack for more tissues and Vivian rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Daugher?" The woman frowned. "Oh, you mean Eve? She's not his daugher. I mean, not his real daugher."

Vivian massaged her temples. "Yes, Miss Vaughn, we are aware of that. Did he mention her before he disappeared? Did he say anything?"

Vaughn sniffed, groaned miserably and checked her watch. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, she tilted her head to the right and frowned again.

"Well, he didn't. I mean, David didn't say anything about her. But her mother did."

Vivian frowned. "Darlene McEvoy contacted you? Why?"

Vaughn shrugged. "What the hell do I know? She seemed to be in a hurry, told me that she couldn't reach Eve on her cell and asked if she was okay, enjoying her stay in New York. No idea why she would call me. I mean I know David and have met Eve once, but I've never met the ex in my live. It was weird."

Indeed, Vivian thought. So David Foley had no idea Eve was in New York - but her mother obviously knew. That was obviously the reason why Eve had never been called in missing. But instead of contacing her ex-husband and telling him, Darlene McEvoy called her ex - husbands colleague? This didn't make any sense. Unless...

"Miss Vaughn, I need you to concentrate now. Why would Darlene McEvoy call you? Do you know Eve well? Could it be that Eve told her mother she was staying with you while she was in New York?"

Vaughn snorted, wihch was again followed by a sneeze. "What, you think I am Eve's alibi? Not very likely. Like I said, she doesn't really know me. It doesn't make any sen - wait!" She interrupted herself, groaning. "Of corse. Nicky!"

Vivian was close to groaning herself. Another name to add to the mystery.

"And who is Nicky?"

-----

"It's you again."

Darlene McEcoy crossed her ams and stared at Buck darkly. Then she looked at Danny. "Ah, a new face. At least it's not getting boring."

While Buck was still trying to come up with a witty retort (because usually he had no problem at all talking to women - but this one...) Danny stepped forward, leaning over the desk and into her personal space.

"I have no idea who you are trying to impress," he told her, his voice calm. "all I want to know is where your daughter is at the moment."

Her eyes narrowed. "I already told one of the other agents about that. My daugher is NOT missing! She's in New York, visiting a friend. They are staying at her parents house. What is this all about? Why are you asking me about Eve?"

Danny didn't move an inch. "Well, for starters, she left most of her luggage at the airport. Why would she do that? Visit a friend without clothes to change?"

"What?" For the first time, Darlene McEvoy seemed uncertain. "That's not true, I talked to her on the phone and she never told me.."

"You talked to her? She called you?" Now Danny understood why Wilmington had refused to interrogate her again at first. She was acting like a teenager.

"Of corse she has," Darlene McEvoy hissed angrily. "She has called me several times this week, telling me how she is and all that. She never mentioned losing her luggage..."

"And that's where you are wrong," Danny interrupted her. "She did not loose her luggage. She left it behind on purpose."

McEvoy snorted. "That is stupid. I don't believe that."

Buck finally had enough. "I don't care what you believe or not. The point is that WE believe that somehow, your daugher is tied into this whole mess about Milo Derringer. And now we need to know..."

"That's a LIE!" Before they knew what happened, Darlene McEvoy was out of her chair. "She does not have anything to do with that and if you even try to.."

It took several minutes to calm her down - and after that, even longer to calm Buck down.

"I am here on free will," Darlene McEvoy seethed. "I don't have to talk to you at all. I know where my daughter is, she is NOT missing! So maybe she lost her luggage and didn't want ot upset me. Or maybe she just didn't care. She's 18 now, it happens."

"Okay," Danny sighed. "Maybe you are right. But could you still tell us the name of Eve's friend? We are not going to arrest your daugher, she hasn't done anything wrong." Yet, Danny added in his mind. This was getting out of hand. She crossed her arms. "Why should I? There is no reason for you to go looking for her, she is fine."

"There is, Mrs. McEvoy," Danny interrupted her again. "Milo Derringer has still not been found and we just want to make sure that Eve is fine. I am sure you understand that."

The woman thought about that for a moment, then she sighed dramatically.

"Nicky. Nicky Vaughn. They are the same age. Eve told me that they met the last time she was in New York. That was about three months ago. They stayed in contact after that, them both being computer geeks and all. I never met her, but we talked on the phone a few times. Nice girl."

Danny sighed, feeling relieved. Now that they had a name, they could finally get out of this room.

--------

At the hospital, the situation was not much better. Dr. Macer had threatened them again, so now they were at the waiting area and had not really gotten anywhere. While Chris was on the phone, Jack stood beside Martin and Joseph Simms kept his distance. Jack eyed him warily, then he turned to Martin.

"You know," he said, barely hiding a smile, "someday you have to tell me what that stuff about your hair is all about."

He almost laughed out loud when he saw Martin blush and heard a mumbled "You don't want to know."

"Okay," Chris spoke up, "Josiah just questioned our DPD cop and it seems that he did not witness anything that migh be helpful. Two other tenants he questioned said they heard several voices in the entrance area but later saw only one man aside from Carsson. Because of the darkness and the weather that's not really much to go by. The thing is," he turned towards Simms now, "before Lindt and his colleagues were taken off the case, they found out that the apartment building itself does not have security cameras at all, but the convenience store across the street has two cameras. The angle of the first one is wrong and the tape was pretty useless, but the second camera would have been in exactely the right place to at least show enough to find out if there were people arriving at or leaving the apartment building." His eyes narrowed. "But guess what."

Jack nodded darkly. "No tape."

Chris still stared at Simms, who immediatley felt threatened.

"What the hell are you staring at me for?! I want to know about this as much as you do! Carsson's one of my agents for god's sake. He's just a kid!"

Chris' stare didn't waver. "Well, disappearing for days right after your agent was shot at would make anyone look suspicious, don't you think?"

Before the siuation got out of hand, Nathan stepped in. "Okay, everybody calm down. So the tape is gone. That's not good, but let's look at the other things we have found out. According to Lindt, the people he questioned stated that they saw only one person later, but they heard "several voices" in the entrance area. Now, doctor Macer told me that whoever the shooter was, missed any vital organs in spite of the short distance. According to her, he or she was distracted by something. So my guess is that it was more than one person."

"That would count out Derringer," Martin thought aloud, "he's an idiot, but he usually works alone."

"YOU stay out of this!" Simms bellowed out of nowhere, pointing at Martin. "What are you doing here anyway?! Who the hell are you? If you really are Tanner, so help me god I will..."

"Enough!" Chris interrupted him, but could barely hide a grin. They all had felt Simm's wrath after the Derringer bust (or better: the desaster). It was understandable, to a certain extend. Maybe the boys had gone overboard with their pranks at team nine's expence back then. Vin especially. But for some reason the smart sharpshooter had always managed to disappear into thin air whenever Simms had entered their office. And Simms was very unforgiving. So it was not surprising to see him act like this. But still.

"We don't have time for this. Not now." Chris and Simms stared at each other for what seemed like hours, than, slowly, Simms backed off. He kept on staring at Martin though.

Chris sighed.

"So maybe he's right and it wasn't Derringer. Or it was him and he was interrupted by someone,"

"That still doesn't make any sense!" Simms shouted, seething again. "Why in hell should he confront Carsson, he never even met him! There is no reason on earth for him to look for him, let alone attack him!"

For a moment there was silence.

"Maybe..." Martin whispered like he was talking to himself, "he was expecting somebody else. Maybe it was just a coincidence. He wanted to meet somebody else there, Carsson comes out of the building, recognizes him and panics."

Jack snorted. "That would be one hell of a coincidence."

-----

"So, what do we have?"

Danny sat down in one of the chairs in the open ATF office. For some reason he felt much more confortable now. It was done, Darlene McEvoy had left (not without a pout that would have made a thirteen year old proud). JD was still working on his computer and didn't seem to notice their return. He was the only one in the office at the moment and since he was obviously busy, the office was eerily quiet.

"A headache," Buck shot back, not really in a good mood.

Danny nodded darkly. Not only that Darlene McEvoy had killed their last nerves, her information had also turned out to be pretty useless, since Vivian and Sam already knew about Nicky Vaughn and were on their way to question her right now.

"JD?" Buck asked carefully and Danny only now noticed that the youngest agent of the ATF team looked dangorously pale. He was gnawing on his bottom lip, his eyes never leaving the computer screen.

"I..." JD stuttered, "... this is..."

"Come on, what's wrong?" Buck asked, his impatience and bad mood replaced by worry. JD whirled his office chair around to face Buck and Danny, taking a shaky breath.

"Do... do you remember how Ezra warned us how it wasn't a good idea to take over this case?"

"Yes," Buck answered slowly, not really undstanding where this was headed.

"Well," JD continued nervously, "I took a closer look at the Derringer file, made a few phone calls, cross checked everything, and... " He cleared his throat. "The file itself isn't really the problem."

All he got in response were two matching frowns from Buck and Danny Taylor. He took another uneasy breath.

"Team 9 had their own tech guys in place during the Derringer bust, but I monitored the bank accounts too, remember? Chris wanted me to keep an eye on the money, just in case. Right?" This question was clearly adressed to Buck, who nodded without a word. He had a really bad feeling about this.

"Well," JD swallowed hard, " at first I couldn't really find anything so I kind of hacked into the servers of the bank we used back then and for some time I did not find anything. It was easy to overlook, you know? Like somebody had really gone out of their way to hide it. But when I dug in deeper I found out that... it seems that... I mean it looks like...it's gone."

"WHAT?!" Buck exploded while Danny only looked confused. "How on earth is that possible?!"

"I don't know!" JD shouted back, getting defensive. "The money was transferred to close the deal, it was used as an evidence so we could arrest Derringer. Like the proverbial case full of money that's exchanged for the goods. Okay?"

"Okay," Danny answered, trying to stay calm.

"Usually, the money is transferred back later or the accounts are deleted. Because on a bust like that that, on the computer screen, the money is really there. It exists and can be transferred." When JD was again met with confused faces, he sighed.

"Botton line is: the money was transferred to Derringer's account, and the account was deleted later, like it should have been. But from what I found out, the money was gone by then. I don't know how or where to, the files are too old. But I know that the accound was just... empty. At least that is what the computer says. I mean it could be a bug."

"Or not. So you are telling us," Buck sighed, massaging his temples, "that someone hacked into the computer system of the bank during the Derringer bust and transferred the money before the account was deleted. Right?"

"Right," Danny answered for JD, his face dark. "And I know by whom." Suddenly many pieces of this puzzle made a lot more sense. And he did not like the picture he was seeing. He ignored the suprised faces and grabbed his cell phone. "What are you doing?" Buck asked, not really sure what was going on.

"Calling Jack. We need to get a search warrant for Darlene McEvoy's house." Then he turned towards JD. "As soon as we get it, I'm going to need your help."

JD nodded seriously. "Got it."

Buck on the other hand was not really listening anymore. Because here and now something else was happening, something bad. Not only that the money had disappeared. What worried him more was the fact that nobody noticed this.

He cursed through his teeth, grabbing his phone. If he was right, this indeed was a lot bigger than they had first thought. He hated it. Hated even the fact that he had consider it a possiblity. But it took a lot more than a hacker to pull something like this off.

At some point during the Derringer case, somebody on the inside had given away information.

And when it came down to it, it wasn't really about the money.

He hated to admit it, but obviously Ezra had been right. They were in way over their heads - and as soon as he made this phone call, the witch hunt would be on.

--------

Only a few minutes later, Chris' phone rang. He listened without a word and Nathan watched how his friend's face turned pale, then angry and determined. Next to them, Jack got off the phone and was talking to Martin.

When Chris lowered his phone, Jack turned towards him.

"We have a problem."

"I know," Chris interrupted him darkly, raising his hand. "It will have to wait." He took a deep breath. "I just talked to Travis," he shot a short glance at Nathan and then looked back at the others. The temperature in the waiting room dropped noticably. "From this moment on, the Derringer case has top priority and all information is classified." Jack was about to protest, but Chris ignored him.

"There's more. All agents who were originally assigned to that case or in some way familiar with it are taken off whatever they are working on now and reassigned to the Derringer case immediately."

He turned towards Simms who had gone pale. "That includes you and team nine..."

Then his eyes found Martin.

"... and Vin Tanner."

----------------

------

Short, sharp flashes of light overhead.

A cold, steady wind.

Jumbling thoughts of heading for the ranch to say good bye to that stupid horse.

Something stinging in his eyes.

Rapid blinking to get rid of it.

And then a hard impact out of nowhere, making the world whirl out of control.

The screaming, piercing sound of metal scraping over pavement.

Another sharp impact.

A gasp. No, a painful, forced intake of breath, too much pressure.

And then, for a long time, nothing.

Not a sound, expect for the wind.

A confused mind desperately tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Pain.

Pressure.

Cold.

No air. Not enough air.

Should breathing hurt like that? No.

Heaving, pain, no air and the desperate try to make the world turn just a little bit more, just so that everything was back where it was supposed to be.

No such luck though.

And then time seemed to speed up and filled the air with light, movement and voices. Voices that were talking to each other, then to him.

"...ir? Look at me, please. Try to concentrate on me. Can you tell me your name?"

It did not make any sense.

He heard the same voice saying the same thing over and over again, but it never made sense to him.

"...tell me your name?"

----

-----------

Comment: Tadaaa - and again I manage to cause total confusion and throw around facts like you wouldn't believe. Don't ask me how this happened, it just did. I wrote most of it in one go, suffering from an immense bout of insomnia. Again there is not much humor in this (and I know poor OCs don't count) and too much casefile, but I just needed to clear a few things up and answer some questions before we get really serious here. (Because hey, AD of the FBI still on his way! Uh oh.)

I know it is confusing. I know that a lot of stuff does not make sense right now. But I'll sort it out. Somehow ...

So if you are staring at this chapter now and think "Okay, up to this it was okay, but now you lost me..." I can understand that. I really went overboard with this (hides).

All I can say is that we finally reached a point in the story that I had wanted to get to for a long time. Phew!

In retrospect, maybe I should have divided this into two chapters. Because 12 pages (!!!) is really a lot to take in (it's almost as long as chaper 1! Jesus, what was I thinking?!). But since I am already writing chapter seven, I thought to hell with it :)


	8. TTTB FAQs and Randomness

**The ties that bind - FAQs and useless, random information (this is not a new chapter! Sorry )**

Achem. I wrote at the beggining of chapter 6 that I had made a journal post with totally random information and some funny side notes regarding TTTB for the reviewers. Well, since the link did not work and my lj is acting up, I thought might as well post it here. So since I am currently writing on chapter seven, here is something to pass the time.

If you want, think of this as an extra on a dvd - you don't really have to read it to understand the story. But after a few nice emails form reviewers and a wonderful conversation here on my lj I thought to hell with it, just go for it. So if you want, kick back and have fun.

1**.) FAQs.**

I have been asked quite a few questions about this story - and since it grew and got a little bit out of hand, I think I owe you a few answers :)

Q: Why the hell is the pace of this story so slow? Aren't they searching for a missing person? Shouldn't they constantly be in a hurry?

A: Well, if you have paid attention (and I am assuming all of you have ) I am sure you noticed that our MPU team is NOT really working on an official case right now. Eve McEvoy was never really reported missing (her mother tells us why in chapter six) and the Derringer case is no longer theirs. So right now they are kind of using Eve McEvoy as an alibi to find out more about the Derringer case and while they are on it, about Martin :)

And than there's the fact that it's a ATF crossover. The boys are not less efficient then the MPU, but a lot more laid back. There's no running around town going on if it's not necessary. :)

Q: There are so many flashbacks in your story, but you never exactely say how much time went by. How long was Martin "missing" after he ran away?

A: Have I ever mentioned that chapter one is over a year older then the rest of the story? I posted it just for fun and never planned to pick it up. Well, after I actually got reviews for the ancient thing I call chapter one, I was facing the difficult task of actually getting back into the storyline. So I did a lot of math to untangle the mess I had created. Think about it like this: Rangers: 4 years, Bounty Hunter: 1 year, ATF: 3 years. So: 8 years. And since Maddie is 27 at the beggining of the story and once it was mentioned that she is four years younger than Martin (and let's not forget his 2 years at White Collar and the fact that this story takes place in WAT season two) you do the rest of the math yourself. (yawn)

Q: Okay, we know that Vin had the accident and that Victor Fitzgerald found him after that. How did that happen? How did he get from Denver to DC? Is there any memory loss involved?

A:(snort) Well, that's one of the last mysterys left, huh? About the memory loss issue: No, there is none of that involved, at least not really. A tiny bit, maybe. We will see. I hope the answer to the question of how Vin got from Denver to DC is going to surprise you - although I already hinted at it several times. Just check the beginning of chapter two. (What? You really thought I was going to tell you? Please.)

Q: How on earth do you keep track of all your OCs? I lost you somewhere through chapter six.

A: I have no idea where they all came from. I mean there's the tissue addict Rose Vaughn, the pain in the ass Darlene McEvoy, then of corse David Foley, our beloved librarian on anti-depressants, Bailey Carsson, who spent most of the time in a hospital (thank god), Gabe Kincaid from chapter two (who is actually from another story of mine that I never posted, but I liked him a lot and wrote him into TTTB)... and that's not all, be sure that Maddie, Eve McEvoy and even another female character from a WAT episode will make an appearance. Whoa. (But don't get me wrong, there is NEVER going to be any Mary-Sue - ing in a story I write. Bah!)

Q: Everybody is talking about this Derringer guy, but WHO the heck is he? Will he ever show up in this story?

A: Well, at first I was thinking about making it some kind of running gag that everybody talks about him but he never shows. But now... he DOES exist, so maybe we'll meet him at some point. We shall see :)

Q: Do you hate Victor Fitzgerald? He seems to be the real bad guy in all this.

A: I couldn't believe somebody actually had the guts to ask me that (giggle). So I hope this will be a shocker, because the answer is NO. As a matter of fact, I kind of like him. I know that this must be a surprise, but I think that Martin and Victor are a lot alike and that this is the reason why they clash the way they do. So do not expect me to demonize Victor too much. Everybody has a reason for the way he or she acts. That's all I am saying.

Q: Why are there no Martin/Sam scenes in this?

A: Well, for starters, because at this point of time (remember: TTTB takes place halfway through season two) there has not really happened a lot between them. And then... well, let's just say that I don't see it. I absolutely love the way AJ writes them in the "Full moon..." stories, but in WAT cannon? It just irks me. It's so clear that Sam is still pining over Jack while dating Martin in season three, it hurts. I just can't see Martin/Sam, just like I can't see Danny/Elena. Which is going to happen in season... wait... five? I don't know, I stopped watching after the whole storyline with Martin's drug addiction.

**2.) Random and totally useless information**

Well now, let's move on to the trivia nobody wants to know. You don't really have to read this- if you think I already babbled enough, just let it be. Nothing in this paragraph is really important, so you won't miss anything. It's just me having fun yacking away about nothing.

Still, I love doing this, it's like opening an old drawer and finding useless junk you lost a long time ago.

The storyline of TTTB

is weird, I know that. When I first started working on an idea for a WAT/ATF story, it was rather simple. Write down a casefile, make the MPU team go to Denver for some god forsaken reason, throw in team seven and tadaaa, crossover story. But I have a really weird and crazy way of thinking and that was just too simple and stupid. So I threw in some chaos and mayhem and here we are.

Another point was that when I first started TTTB, I was shying away from the idea of the team just hopping on a plane to Denver on a simple missing persons case. Because throughout season one of WAT, they rarely left New York. So I added the whole ATF thing, Derringer getting out of prison and the Carsson attack, to give them a good reason to travel to Denver. And then? Then came season two, and I watched in awe how Jack and Danny went on a short trip to Tikrit (oO...) like it was nothing and I felt rather stupid. But now I got them into this mess and I am the one to get them out of it. Thank you Mr. Bruckheimer.

The thing about the flashbacks

Achem, You want to know the bloody, messy truth? Actually, the first flashbacks in TTTB (aka the whole Derringer bust, the scene on the rooftop...) from chapter one were from other ATF stories that I started writing but never finished. When I came up with the idea for TTTB, I ripped the other stories apart and included the parts into TTTB - it kind of felt like patching together Frankensteins monster.

After chapter one I kind of ran out of flashback material and really had to come up with a reason for their existence. So the rough storyline of TTTB was born out of desperation and the flashbacks turned into some weird tradition that I grew fond of. Oh boy.

**Originally, it went like this...**

When I first started TTTB, a lot of things were different from the final version of chapter one that I posted on It was a lot darker, more depressing and no fun at all. Examples?

- The overall atmosphere, aka The many lifes of Bailey Carsson

In an early version of TTTB, the Derringer bust ends dramatically, there's a lot of gunfire, blood and even an explosion during which Bailey Carson is killed. It was a rather heartless desicion - he simply was the most expendable character, since he had just been introduced and never had any lines. (the whole scene was the same as it is now, except for the last paragraph which was originally the bloody and messy part.) That idea did not really work out for me, since that whole scenario with the Derringer bust was meant to introduce Chris and the boys - and that was defenitely too much mayhem and tragedy for that. So I changed it, the boys had their fun and Carsson survived. But not for long. When I first wrote chapter two, I had a lot of trouble getting back into the storyline and needed something drastic to get the attention of Jack and his team. So originally, Gabe Kincaid tells the team that Bailey Carsson was not only attacked, but killed on the spot. Wham. Drama? There you go. But after chapter two was finished (!!) I re-read the whole thing and found that a murder did not really fit in. Also I was sure that had an ATF agent been killed, no one over at Denver would have cared about sending an agent to some MPU unit in New York. It was just too drastic.So I went through all the 11 pages of chapter two and erased every evidence of Carsson's death. He was revived once again. (Not that him being a vegetable in a hospital bed for most of the story is any better. But hey, he made it. He did not die. That's an improvement, no? Talk about useless information.) Since he did not really make an impression yet - aside from some drug - induced babbling (about Vin's hair! Mwah!) I might still kill him off. Or not. We shall see about that.

- Milo Derringer aka Waiting for Godot

After getting rid of the dark parts of TTTB and deciding for a much lighter apporach, I had to re-invent the (so called) bad guy too. At first Derringer was a really dark character, but in the end I did not have it in me to write him like that.  
In my mind, Milo Derringer is now a sneaky, greedy little man with criminal tendencies and a temper, but not a murderer. The overall atmosphere of the casefile was meant to feel like "Life rules" or, to a certain extend, "The line" (both season two of WAT) . Confusing, a bit on the serious side but overall light and a tad bit crazy. It was meant to counteract Martin's dilemma, which is angsty enough as it is methinks. And the fact that we haven't met Derringer yet? Was me being sloppy at first, but now that I look back at it, it's probably because during WAT casefiles, we only really "meet" the missing person once he or she is found.

- The reunion aka Lost and found

Originally, I had planned to send Chris over to New York in chapter two instead of Gabe Kincaid. But for some reason that scenario did not really work, it would have been to easy. I know from experience that you can't just walz back into other people's lives after years and act like nothing ever happened. The arkwardness IS there and tension is an issue.  
So to add to the angst, I rewrote that too and made Jack, Danny and Martin go to Denver instead. It was still tricky, but I liked the idea of having members of both teams there better than Chris coming to New York alone.

- Victor Fitzgerald aka "Are we there yet?"

(snicker) Well, originally I had planned to let Victor arrive on the scene (and ultimately in the story) a lot earlier, but that just didn't sit right with me. There's a certain amount of flashbacks that I need to add BEFORE our AD can take over the story. (Which he sure will, at least for a few scenes :) So the whole hospital scene, when Chris tells Simms and Martin that they are officially reassigned to the Derringer case (meaning that the case is yet again ATF only), this was not only my way of putting team seven back together, but also another obstacle Victor Fitzgerald will have to face. Since he really has a lot of influence, I needed something official to keep him busy. I am not really sure who he will have to face first, Travis, Martin... maybe even Chris. We shall see about that, no?

Jesus, I could go on like this forever. But let's stop here, huh? I think I already babbled enough.

See you in chapter seven!!

hugs

shun


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